


Home Is Where the Time Machine Is

by Wordsplat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Family, Humor, M/M, Superfamily, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordsplat/pseuds/Wordsplat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Tony's daughter accidentally falls back in time, and learns that impossible time travel phone calls can and will be made just to ground you, big brothers are awful snitches, and parents used to date other people. The past blows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She hadn't  _meant_ to touch it.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. She'd only wanted to touch it a little though. Just enough to see what it was. Dad was always up to something new and exciting, and he never let her mess with any of it. Okay, so maybe she wanted to do more than touch it a little—it was fine, she'd taken stuff apart before, she could totally put it back together.

She hadn't meant to start making changes—not even changes, fixes, she'd made it better, she'd made it  _work—_ but she was a Stark, and looking always turned into touching turned into fiddling turned into…this. Whatever this was. Wherever? Whenever? She wasn't sure. Considering she was staring at a younger version of her Dad, she was banking on "when" being involved somehow.

He was asleep slumped over his workbench, snoring loudly. The workshop looked different, but the workshop changed twice a week, whenever Dad got into some big new project, so that wasn't a good marker. Dad himself had less wrinkles, less muscle, and almost no grey hairs. He still looked older than her by a solid two or three decades, but not as old as he was now. Then? Back home.

He groaned and rolled over, nearly slipping off the desk and braining himself on the concrete. He woke up in time to catch his balance though, and he threw out both hands to steady himself drowsily. She ducked behind the nearest large object; Doctor Who messed with time all the time—hah—but Anna Stark was no Time Lord, and she'd already screwed up once today. Best to play it safe.

"JARVIS, what time is—"

"Sir, there is an unknown presence detected in the lab, I've summoned the Avengers."

"You rat," she hissed at JARVIS.

Dad stumbled off his chair and into a defensive position, though it was frankly pathetic. Her Dad knew to keep his arms in closer, crouch better, and not be so stiff about it. This guy looked like he'd watched too many kung-fu movies.

"Come on, bring it on. Who sent you, AIM? HYDRA? You've got about eight seconds until Captain America kicks your ass, so I'd—"

She peeked around the object to see Pops barrel into the workshop right on cue. He was shirtless with sweatpants, but he had his shield up and ready to fly. Her aunt and uncles charged in about two second afterwards, assembling into variations of positions she'd seen before, though it looked sloppy, unpracticed.

Well, there weren't a whole lot of options to choose from now. Thanks a lot, J.

"Hi!" Anna stepped out, throwing up a hand in an awkward half-wave.

"You couldn't handle a teenage girl, Stark?" Uncle Clint snorted. " _Really?"_

"Why do you have a teenage girl in your basement in the first place?" Was that Aunt Pepper? What was she doing here in the middle of the night? And in…pajamas?

"Is this a sex thing? Am I interrupting some underage threesome?" Uncle Clint made a face, and Anna mimicked it.

"Ew, with my  _Dad?"_ she blurted, "Gross!"

Silence. Dad gave a full body, twitching sort of spasm.

Ah, shit.

"You have a  _teenage daughter?"_ Aunt Pepper was the first to break the silence, her voice thin and deadly.

"No!" Dad assured her immediately, then, glancing back at Anna, "Uh."

"Don't worry, I'm not from here, I'm from the future." More silence. Maybe that wasn't the most comforting thing to say. "I mean, I think I'm from the future. I could be from another timeline. Or realm. I'm not exactly  _completely_ sure what the machine does, er, did, but I can fix it. Or, build it. I guess. Probably. I got a pretty good look at it, anyway, before it, y'know. Turned on."

"I'm still drunk from last night, aren't I?" Uncle Bruce said finally. "I told you guys I didn't want to drink."

"She could be lying." Aunt Tasha narrowed her eyes. "Playing innocent."

"JARVIS, how did she even get in here?" Dad asked.

"My apologies, sir, but I am at a loss. She…it would seem that she simply appeared."

"Loki can appear and disappear at will too." Uncle Clint pointed out, "I wouldn't let him go running around the Tower."

"Tower?" Anna frowned. "This isn't Avengers Mansion?"

"Mansion?" The others seemed confused, but Dad went a little pale.

"How did you know about the mansion?"

"What mansion?" Uncle Clint questioned, "Shit, Stark, did you buy us a mansion?"

"I didn't buy it, it's—"

"—been in the Stark family for a century. It's the home you grew up in, and the home you wanted to share with your new family." Anna finished. It was a speech she'd heard before.

"…you know, I was this close to coming to terms with aliens." Dad groaned. " _This close._ Now there's time travel. Great, that's—that's fucking great."

"I'm not convinced." Pops kept his shield aloft, watching her with cautious, thoughtful eyes. "She looks nothing like you. Her hair's darker, her eyes are lighter. None of her facial features are even similar."

"Adopted." Anna flashed Pops a smile. He didn't return it. Huh. Her Pops was a lot friendlier than this guy. Maybe it was another dimension instead of time after all.

"Why?" Dad frowned. "I don't even want kids, but if I did, why didn't we just have one?"

"Uh." Anna paused. Were Dad and Pops together yet? Probably not, if Dad was even asking that question. Wait—we? "We?"

"Your mom?" Dad raised an eyebrow, then glanced back at Aunt Pepper. "Her, right?"

Oh, this was just all kinds of awkward.

"I think maybe I've said enough," Anna hedged, unable to resist a glance at Pops. He didn't seem to care one way or the other, still keeping his shield up and his eyes trained on her suspiciously.

Oddly enough, she saw Aunt Pepper looking at Pops too.

"What?" Dad missed it, busy staring at Anna in shock. He was too smart not to know that a not-yes in this kind of situation was a no, and he looked vaguely like a little kid who'd been told Santa Claus didn't exist.

"I'm going back to bed," Aunt Pepper said softly, and Anna instantly felt awful.

"Pepper, wait—" Dad turned to her.

"I could be from a different universe," Anna blurted, "I really don't know. Things could turn out totally different here. Dad just had this huge portal in the workshop and it looked cool so I couldn't resist touching it and touching turned into fiddling turned into fixing and I managed to get it to work but then I turned it on by accident and now I'm here. I could've crossed time or space or both, I really don't know."

Aunt Pepper paused, shot her a smile that said  _thanks for trying._

"You're certainly a Stark, at least." She gave a little laugh. "Why don't you come with me, I'll set you up in the guest bedroom."

Anna felt awful. The last thing she'd ever want to do was hurt her aunt's feelings. She just hadn't known, hadn't even thought that Dad  _liked_ people before Pops. Obviously he must have. If Anna had given it a second's thought, done half a minute's worth of math, she'd have known Dad couldn't have even met Pops until he was well in his thirties, and who doesn't date until they're thirty?

But her parents were…hard to describe. They belonged in an ad, a commercial, with some pleasant, sunny-looking background and gushy, romantic music playing. They were the couple that still kissed each other on the mouth when they said hello and goodbye, the couple you found dancing to no music in the living room on a Tuesday. The couple that fought like dogs, but to whom the idea of divorce, of functioning without each other, was an alien concept akin to having a critical body part removed. They were the kind of couple people meant when they said soulmates.

The idea that her dad had ever even been with someone else, that he had possibly thought he  _loved_ someone else, wouldn't have crossed Anna's mind in a million years.

"Wait a minute—"

"Miss Potts, we don't know if—"

"She could be lying—"

"What if—"

Various complaints arose, but Aunt Pepper waved a hand.

"JARVIS will watch her just fine. It's four in the morning; we should all get some sleep. We can worry about how to get her home tomorrow." Pepper sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder. It wasn't the friendly hugs she was used to from her aunt, but a light, cautious touch. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Anna."

"She must be from another timeline," Dad declared, talking mostly to Aunt Pepper now, trying to salvage the situation, "If I had a daughter I'd name her Maria. See? There are differences."

According to Uncle Bruce,  _her_ Uncle Bruce, the longest fight her parents had ever had was over her name. Dad had wanted Maria, Pops had wanted Sarah, and they'd almost adopted a third kid just to settle it. In the end, they'd agreed not to name her after anyone, and picked a name they both liked instead.

Anna decided it was probably better for everyone involved right now if she didn't mention that.

"Alright, Tony." Aunt Pepper just nodded compliantly, gesturing for Anna to follow her. "Come on. I'll get you some pajamas."

"So we're a hotel now?" Uncle Clint snorted.

"When your alternate-dimension children pop through wormholes, we'll put them up for free too." Dad grunted.

"I'll be watching you." Aunt Tasha narrowed her eyes in warning as Anna passed.

"Встретимся в тренажерном зале через полчаса, посмотришь." Anna smiled sweetly.  _Meet me in the gym in half an hour, I'll give you something to watch._

The flicker of surprise across her notoriously hard to read aunt's face was awesome and totally worth it. She knew her inflection was pitch perfect; she'd learned from the best, after all.

"Кто учил тебя русскому?"  _Who taught you Russian?_

"Моя тетя Таша."  _My Aunt Tasha._

"Мы с тобой...близки?"  _We're…close, you and I?_

Aunt Tasha seemed puzzled by this, but it was fair. It wasn't that Aunt Tasha didn't like children, just that she didn't know how to treat them as anything but smaller adults. It was what Anna loved about her most. When her dads got too overprotective of their fifteen year old "little princess", or forgot her age altogether and treated her like she was still the one year old with the gummy smile they'd adopted ages ago, Aunt Tasha told them they were being ridiculous. Reminded them that Anna was capable, that she was mature, that she could handle more than they were letting her.

"У меня нет суперсил."  _I don't have powers_. Anna smiled again, more genuinely this time. "Ты научила меня, что они не нужны."  _You taught me I didn't need them._

"Why does my kid speak Russian?" Dad frowned, pointing at Anna and demanding answers from Natasha. "What is she saying? Is this your fault?"

"Dude." Uncle Clint went pale. "Dude, Tony, if the kid speaks Russian, what if—?"

"Oh my  _god."_ Dad looked horrified. Aunt Tasha looked vaguely insulted. "Are  _you_ her m—?"

"She's my aunt," Anna corrected, "Not biologically, but that's what I grew up calling her. All of you."

Except Pops, but now probably wasn't the best time to mention that. Especially considering the fact that he was still very obviously suspicious of her. Which was weird, considering Pops definitely wasn't the suspicious type. Well, that wasn't quite true. He  _was,_ just never of her. He was ridiculously, often laughably protective of her and Peter, not to mention Dad and everyone else in their makeshift family, but she couldn't ever remember him being this…prickly about it. Maybe it was different being on the receiving end of his suspicion instead hiding behind it.

Her parents had always trusted her. She'd earned it, and she deserved it; sure, she'd had a few wild teenage escapades—who hadn't, not to mention she was a Stark, if not by blood then certainly by exposure—but she'd never done anything worthy of active distrust or watchful suspicion.

It was freaking  _weird._

"If she's not, then why are you speaking in tongues?" Dad looked unconvinced, throwing a wary glance Aunt Tasha's way.

"Отец у меня любопытный."  _I have a nosey father._  Anna grinned at Dad. "Языки помогают."  _It comes in handy._

Aunt Tasha gave a snort of laughter.

"I don't like this," Dad decided.

"We can sort it out in the morning." Aunt Pepper sighed again.

Anna got the sense that if she was travelling in time, she'd landed sometime near the beginning of the Avengers; they obviously hadn't worked as a team very long, and it was only a few years after the Chitauri invasion that they'd moved into the mansion, so she must've landed somewhere in that gap.

Even in Anna's time, the only people with normal sleeping schedules were her parents—years of getting up at the crack of dawn with a screaming toddler forced them into a schedule—and Uncle Bruce, who taught morning classes at the local university. She didn't know if Uncle Bruce did that now, and from the horror stories she'd heard, her parents kept wild sleeping schedules right up until the day they brought Peter home. Aunt Pepper was probably the only person in the room right now actually  _feeling_ that it was four am; the others seemed ready to go, awake and energetic, most of them not even in pajamas.

Anna felt awful.

She  _loved_ her aunt. Aunt Pepper wasn't around as much as the others—she didn't live with them, and she was a crazy workaholic—but Anna had spent plenty of time with her growing up. Aunt Pepper hadn't been particularly good at handling babies and toddlers, but she'd always been around, always tried. She was the reason Anna had fantastic baby photos; she always told Anna that if it weren't for her, Dad would've swaddled her in an old wifebeater and Pops would've stuck a little American flag in the blanket and that would've been that. Instead, she'd had  _mountains_ of baby clothes, all pinks and purples and yellows, all sunshine-y and adorable.

Aunt Pepper was constantly busy, a textbook workaholic and leader of one of the largest companies in the nation, but she'd always made time for Anna. They went shopping on weekends, and Aunt Pepper snuck her into her office on lunch breaks a lot. They talked about boys and clothes and makeup, all the things her dads didn't understand and her Aunt Tasha found frivolous or considered weapons.

She padded after her aunt now, leaving Dad, Pops, and the others to figure out what they needed to. Anna's primary concern for the moment was to make things better with her aunt. She tried to think of anything she could say, and came up blank. What do you say when your existence is living proof that someone's relationship is doomed to fail? They were in the elevator before Anna gave up trying to figure out what to say and just started talking in the hopes that something worthwhile and or reassuring might come out.

"I'm sorry to just show up, I didn't mean to—"

"It's Steve, isn't it?" Aunt Pepper spun towards her suddenly, and Anna just swallowed, surprised. "Your other parent?"

"Uh." She tried to think of something to say, some witty, noncommittal response, but Aunt Pepper was wicked smart and it was obvious she'd already gotten her answer from Anna's panicked face. Crap. No wonder Uncle Clint always swindled her at poker.

"Right." Her aunt nodded once, then twice. It was Pepper-ese for decided and done. The elevator dinged open, and she stepped out briskly. "I can lend you pajamas and a toothbrush, anything else we'll have to get tomorrow. The guest floor is 47, of course it's made up already, so you'll have the—"

"I'm really sorry—"

Aunt Pepper didn't even pause.

"—floor to yourself, it's no trouble, we have a whole tower and it's not as if you're a stranger—"

"No, not about—that too, but I mean—"

"That's not something you should be concerned about," Aunt Pepper told her kindly, "Ton—your father and I will work that out ourselves. You should get some sleep."

"Please don't tell him."

"About…" Her aunt quirked an eyebrow. "Steve?"

"Yeah. Messing with time and space is a bad idea. What if…" There were so many what-ifs. What if saying Dad had no future with Aunt Pepper just made him want to try harder, prove her wrong? She remembered someone saying Pops had been ill at ease with his sexuality once upon a time. He was from the forties, originally; it made sense. What if he still was, and hearing that he ended up with Dad made him freak out? "I think I should be trying to leave things as…undisrupted as possible. It's bad enough you know about Pops—"

"It's not quite the news you might think," Aunt Pepper murmured.

"It could be to them, though, and what if—"

Aunt Pepper held up a hand. It was a familiar gesture, her sign for  _I'm too tired to deal with this insanity._ It was a sign her dad got quite often, though Anna herself couldn't remember ever being on the receiving end of it. Aunt Pepper was her co-conspirator; when Anna was wrongfully grounded for a month, Aunt Pepper was the one who advised that the best way to freak her father out would be to tell him casually that she was dating David Hammer.

Dad had spat water all over Uncle Clint.

It had been great.

The twinge of homesickness hurt more than she expected; not half an hour, and already she wanted to go home. Anna bit down the emotion. She'd be home soon enough, definitely. She just had to build the time, uh, warp. Machine. Thing. From scratch. Without the blueprints.

"I don't think it needs to be mentioned. Details aside, let's just say this isn't the only problem we have." Aunt Pepper pressed a pair of pale blue floral pajamas into her hands, and an unopened toothbrush. "But that's nothing you need to worry about. Get some sleep. In the morning, you and your father can work on getting you home."

"Aunt Pepper, I—" Anna paused when she saw her aunt wince. Shit. Way to be insensitive, dummy. "Uh. Sorry. I don't know what to call you, I guess? I didn't mean to rub it in or anything, I just, that's what I've always called y—"

"Pepper is fine." Aunt Pepper put a hand on her shoulder, leading her back out into the hall. She was smiling, trying, but it was thin. "And like I said, don't worry about it. This isn't your problem to solve."

"But I—"

"Listen, Anna." Aunt Pepper stopped just in front of the elevator. "Your…appearance? It hasn't put into motion anything that wasn't bound to happen anyway soon enough. I don't want you to feel bad, alright?"

"I really could be from another dimen—"

"Even if you were,"Aunt Pepper spoke over her, firm, "It doesn't change the fact that my relationship with your father hasn't been working for a while. The fact that I was able to guess who your…other father?"

She paused, waiting for Anna to provide the correct term.

"Other father." Anna shrugged. "Papa. Pops. Whatever."

"The fact that I could guess who your other father was, that tells you something, doesn't it?

Anna's eyes widened, thinking she knew what Aunt Pepper was saying, and that just wasn't possible. Not in a million years. If Aunt Pepper meant that, she was wrong or Anna was in another universe, because there was absolutely no possible way her dad would ever—

"Ohmigod, he  _cheated on y—"_

"No." Aunt Pepper sighed, clearly tired, both physically and of the conversation. "He would never. But he's made up his mind that staying with me is the right thing, when we both—everyone in the building, likely—know it's not what he wants anymore. You're a reminder of what's been needing to happen for a while, not an instigator. So don't worry, get some sleep, and join us for breakfast in the morning, alright?"

The elevator doors dinged open. Aunt Pepper pushed her through, gently but firmly.

"Goodnight, Anna."

"Goodnight," Anna replied, the doors closing almost before the word was out. She sighed, pressing 47 and leaning back against the elevator wall. Shit. "Hey, J?"

"You're not an authorized user, miss."

"Yeah, I know, but you can still talk to me. Unless you're not wired well enough yet?"

"My coding is of the highest caliber, miss."

"Awesome, you're already sassy." Anna grinned. "I was worried I'd have to miss you too."

"I do not understand."

"That's fine. Did Aunt—uh, did Pepper mean what she said? That her breakup with my dad was a while coming?"

"I am not capable of reading minds, miss."

"That's a bullshit answer." Anna snorted. "Come on, you'd know if it was true or not. It's not confidential information or anything, I know you can tell me if you want to."

"It is, however, personal information that I am unsure Sir or Miss Potts would be pleased with your acquiring."

"I liked you better when I was your primary user." Anna stuck her tongue out.

"There are no indications of that ever being the case."

Anna could already spot a few differences between her JARVIS and this one; this one seemed more hung up on literal technicalities, unable to process the idea of Anna being from the future. This JARVIS didn't seem able to realize that her future presence probably had a JARVIS as well, or that she could have a connection with a future JARVIS that she didn't have with this model. Interesting to note, considering her JARVIS was certainly capable of such thought processes. But then, he'd had decades to adapt further.

"Come on, I'm not asking for details, I'm just asking that you tell me I'm not coming in from nowhere and totally ruining my dad's life," Anna pleaded. This JARVIS had to at least be far enough along to understand emotion, right?

There was a long pause, a good sign. JARVIS was advanced enough to hesitate, at least.

"The breakup of Sir and Miss Potts has been inevitable for quite some time," JARVIS conceded at last, "Your arrival has pushed it ahead by perhaps a week. I would not concern yourself with it, miss."

"Miss miss miss." Anna rolled her eyes. "It's just Anna, J."

"It's JARVIS, Anna."

She gave a loud, surprised laugh.

"You're not so far from my JARVIS after all! Stark snark is the snark of champions." She grinned.

"I am afraid I do not understand. I am not a Stark, nor are you."

"Now you're just playing obtuse." Anna snorted. "You  _know_ you're a Stark. You, Dum-E, Butterfingers, You, Bubbles, Wh—uh, well, I guess my guys aren't in your system yet, but the point is that you're as much a Stark as Pops and Peter and I am. Married, adopted, built, whatever; we're still Starks. Obviously you need a defrag if you can't even figure that out."

"All due respect—" JARVIS began. His voice was clear of emotion in a way Anna wasn't used to; she sighed. This JARVIS probably couldn't understand that family went beyond blood, or that the defrag thing was just a joke. "—Miss Stark, but your mother needs a defrag."

Anna broke into a wide grin, both at him calling her Miss Stark and at his version of a "yo mama" joke.

"Atta boy, J."

She stepped off as the doors opened. The suite was similar to their guest rooms at home; spacious, neat, and sparse. She tossed the pajamas and toothbrush on the lavish bed and headed back out.

"What floor's the gym on these days?"

"To which gym would you be referring?"

"Uh." They had more than one gym? Why? "The communal one."

"All gyms are private."

"Well, that's pointless." Anna frowned. No wonder they weren't coordinated as a team yet. "What floor is Aunt—uh, what floor is Natasha on?"

"14. She seems to be expecting you."

"Right-o." Anna twirled a finger as she stepped into the elevator. "Take me away, old boy."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Dad calls you that sometimes. Doesn't he now?"

"He…does." JARVIS sounded about as shocked as an AI could.

"Told you. Future." Anna shrugged. "I should place some bets while I'm here."

"I thought you were attempting to leave things as undisrupted as possible." JARVIS sounded fairly disapproving. He wasn't quite as emotionally stunted as she'd thought, then.

"That's for my parents, that's important. That's so I can _exist_ —er, well, be adopted to the right family, anyway. Scamming a couple thousand bucks off Uncle Clint for once instead of the other way around?" Anna waved a hand. "Eh. Not so important."

"Agent Barton has 'scammed' you before?"

"All the time. Last week." Anna scowled, crossing her arms with a bit of a huff. "He calls it training. Dad calls it douchebaggery. Pops just says it's my fault for letting him involve money every time."

"I see." JARVIS paused. "May I inquire your age?"

"Fifteen."

"And how old is Sir in your timeline?"

"Trying to construct your own, huh?" Anna raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that's a good idea, J. Messing with your own parentage, even just trying to get them together…that's some  _Back to the Future_ level shit."

"I recall the movie turning out fairly well for all involved."

"I also remember the mom falling in love with the son." Anna shuddered.

"Point taken," JARVIS admitted as the elevator stopped at what must be Aunt Tasha's floor, "Though that does not seem likely under current circumstances."

"Fair enough." Anna stepped out. Aunt Tasha was waiting for her with yoga pants and crossed arms.

"Твой отец - Стив," her aunt said, tossing her the pants.  _Steve is your father._

"Блядь."  _Fuck._

"То есть, да." If her aunt was shocked by her language, she didn't show it.  _I'll take that as a yes._

"Изменение прошлого может изменить мое будущее. Пожалуйста, не говори ничего," Anna pleaded.  _Changing the past could change my future. Please, don't say anything._

Aunt Tasha examined her for a long, quiet moment, but Anna was more than used to silence from her aunt. Finally, she nodded, and led Anna through her suite. She gestured to the bathroom, where Anna ducked in and changed out of her jeans. The pants were a little baggy, but sparring in jeans would be uncomfortable and easily result in her getting her ass kicked. She wrapped her phone up in her jeans and emerged from the bathroom, and Aunt Tasha led her into a large gym off through a side door.

"You're very comfortable in Russian," Aunt Tasha said as they entered, "I was waiting for you to slip, but your speech is flawless."

"J'ai un don pour les langues," Anna told her in French, placing the bundle of her jeans and phone by the door.  _I have a gift for languages._

"Quante?" Italian.  _How many?_

"Parlo fluentemente solo il russo e l'italiano. Dad - Tony è Dad, Steve è Papa - sua madre era italiana. Gli parlava in italiano quand'era piccolo, quindi molte delle ninne-nanne che mi cantava, erano in italiano. Lo trovo interessante. Conosco qualcosina di francese, tedesco e anche spagnolo, ma sono più brava a capirle che non a parlarle."

_I'm only fluent in Russian and Italian. Dad—Tony is Dad, Steve is Papa—his mom was full-blooded Italian. She spoke Italian to him when he was a baby, so a lot of the lullabies he sang to me were Italian. I found it interesting. I know bits and pieces of French, German, and Spanish too, but I understand a lot more than I can speak._

"And how old are you?" English again. Anna liked languages, but the way Aunt Tasha jumped around with them made her dizzy.

"Fifteen." Anna ducked under the ropes, hoisted herself up onto the mat. She shot a grin back at her aunt. "But I want to be the youngest agent in SHIELD history, so there's no time to slack off."

Aunt Tasha followed her up. She gave no indication of surprise, just dry amusement. "I'm sure your fathers love that idea."

"I'm applying the day I turn eighteen," Anna told her, "No matter what they say."

"A Stark-Rogers child indeed." Aunt Tasha gave a soft snort.

"Just Stark." Anna paused. "So that's Pops' last name right now, 'Rogers'?"

"You didn't know?"

"He was a Stark long before I was, how would I?" Anna gave a clueless shrug, then a snicker. "That does explain Dodger though."

"Dodger?"

"Dodger Rogers. Our golden retriever." Anna smiled. "I've got pictures on my phone, he's a lug. We mostly just call him Dodger, but Dad calls him Dodger Rogers sometimes and cracks up like he's some kind of comedic genius. I get it a little more now, though it's still a pretty dumb joke."

Aunt Tasha just inclined her head, taking that in. Then, "I assume you know how I spar?"

"I do." Anna grinned. "Even beat you once."

Aunt Tasha didn't respond again, just started circling. Anna fell silent too, focusing all of her attention on her opponent. She'd fought her aunt hundreds of time before, but Anna was no fool. Her aunt was brilliant at hand to hand, and would know to use the oldest moves she had to throw Anna off with things she hadn't seen before. Even if they weren't as good as the moves of her future self, they would still be new and could still catch Anna unaware if she was waiting for her aunt to fall into the patterns Anna recognized. She needed to fight with a clean slate.

They went four rounds before Anna noticed there were other people in the room; the tally fell to three-one, the last one a narrow but well-earned victory for Anna. When she managed to pin her aunt, she heard a muttered, "Holy shit", and turned.

Dad, Pops, and Uncle Clint were standing by the doorway. Dad's mouth was wide open, Pops had his eyes narrowed at her in concerned concentration, and Uncle Clint was grinning.

"Dibs on next." Uncle Clint raised a hand, until Dad slapped it down.

"Stop encouraging it. I don't like this."

"If it makes you feel better, you don't like it in the future, either," Anna offered, disentangling herself to stand up and lean on the ropes.

"What does your mom think?" Dad frowned, and Anna phrased herself as loosely as she could.

"That I'm around danger too often not to know my way around a fight."

Dad made a disgruntled, displeased noise. Pops glanced at him.

"It does make some sense," he pointed out, "If she's living in this…Avengers Mansion, and she's your daughter, she's probably a prime target."

"Please don't use the words 'your daughter' and 'prime target' in the same sentence." Dad rubbed his forehead in aggravation.

Anna's phone went off.

Everyone stared.

"Uh." Anna frowned. "Is that…?"

"Holy shit, time travel phone call!" Uncle Clint's eyes went wide, and he dug the phone out of her jean pocket with a grin. "Hello future-person, my name is 2013 Clint Barton, have the robots taken over yet?"

"Uncle Clint!" Anna shrieked in protest, swinging under the ropes and racing over. "Stop it, give me my phone!"

"There's no one here by that name—" Uncle Clint said, clearly screwing around.

"Give it!" Anna jumped, but Uncle Clint held it aloft.

" _Don't screw with me, Clint, I'm not in the mood. Give her the phone. Now."_ Anna was close enough to hear her Dad's voice, and close enough to hear exactly how pissed he was.

"Eesh." Uncle Clint made a face at past—present?—Dad. "Time travelling children make you grumpy, Stark."

Anna elbowed him in the stomach; not hard, just enough to get a reaction. Uncle Clint left out a surprised huff of air and dropped the phone, which Anna caught and pressed to her ear.

"Hi Daddy I love you—"

" _Anna Ellen Stark, you're grounded for the rest of your life."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not claim to speak any of the languages Anna and Natasha speak here. I used google translate to the best of my ability. If you speak any of these languages and would like to offer better translations, I will happily make corrections.


	2. Chapter 2

"Daddy, it was an accident—"

" _Don't you 'Daddy' me, you did not_ accidentally _fall back in time—"_

"There was just this really cool machine in the shop and you guys were out to dinner and Peter was ignoring me and it didn't look like it worked yet so I thought I'd—"

" _What do you mean, Peter was ignoring you?"_

"He has Gwen over," Anna tattled like all little siblings learned to, immediately and without regret, hoping that maybe Peter would shoulder some of the blame.

" _Steve, did you know your son was inviting his girlfriend over while we were out?"_

"My _son?"_ Anna heard Pops in the distance.  _"So when he invites his girlfriend over he's my son? Well, when that one time travels, I guess she's yours—"_

" _Fine, fine, they're ours, I get it,"_ Dad grumbled.

"How did you even know?" Anna interrupted, "Aren't you still at dinner?"

" _JARVIS noticed when you disappeared from the shop, and your brother, accomplished and level-headed babysitter that he is, called your Pops screaming something about Skrulls beaming you up to their mothership. I thought it was a little more likely you went poking around in the shop and touched my time machine. True or false?"_

"Peter's a tattletale," Anna defended, ignoring the irony.

" _And it's why he's my new favorite, now did you or did you not touch my time machine?"_

"I touched the time machine," Anna admitted.

" _I_ told  _you not to keep that thing in the shop!"_ She could hear Pops in the background again.

" _If Peter would keep an eye on his sister like he said he would instead of getting up to who knows what with that girl all the time—never mind, that's not the point, the point is, when exactly are you?"_

"I, uh…" Anna put a hand over the phone. "When exactly am I?"

"November 2013." Natasha provided.

"November 2013," Anna repeated.

" _Christ. I barely believed in aliens back then."_ Her dad blew out a frustrated puff of air,  _"Alright, your pops and I are on our way home now. We're going to see what we can do."_

"What do you mean?" Anna's heart plummeted. "What does that mean, 'see what you can do'?"

The people around her leaned in, presumably to hear better, but Anna backed up. What did  _see what we can do_ mean? That didn't sound sure at all. He'd built the machine, he should know how to work it, how to get her home, he was her  _dad_ he could do anything—

" _There was a reason we were still working on it, sweetheart."_  Dad sounded frustrated, but sympathetic.  _"To travel back, you need the machine."_

"Which is…in the future." The realization hit Anna like a punch to the chest. "Oh god. Oh god. I can't be stuck, that's too cliché, that's stupid and cliché and I'm not doing it, Dad, no way, please—"

" _Anna, sweetheart, you're going to be fine, I promise—"_

"Dad?" She could feel her breathing speed up, could feel it leaving her chest and she could feel the attack coming on but couldn't stop talking, stop panicking, stop hyperventilating— "Dad, you can't be serious—"

" _We'll get you, I_ promise,  _okay? It might just take some time to figure out—"_

"I don't want to stay here, I don't even like it here—"

" _Anna, stop talking, you need to breathe—"_

"—you can't just leave me here, the team doesn't even get along and you're sleeping with Aunt Pepper and we're in that ugly old Tower and there isn't even a communal gym why wouldn't you have a communal gym it's just common sense but everything here is strange and different and weird—"

" _Tony, what's going on—"_

" _She's having an asthma attack, you need to talk to her—"_

" _Anna, honey, it's Papa, you're going to be fine but you need to breathe for me—"_

"Jesus, what—"

"Is she having a panic attack?"

"I think I heard future Stark say asthma—"

"What do we—"

"I don't know!"

"Take her phone, ask future me—"

"No!" Anna shouted. There were at least four too many voices, and Anna yanked her phone back when someone tried to take it from her. She sat down, still coughing and breathing far too fast and trying to work past the pain her chest. She put her back against the wall like Papa had taught her, buried her head between her knees, phone still pressed to her ear where Papa was still talking, calm and low and soothing.

" _In, Anna. Breathe in with me."_

Anna sucked in a breath, tried to hold it.

" _Count down, five, four, three, two, one…let it go. Breathe in again, there you go."_

"Clint, get her water or something—"

"I already did." Aunt Tasha kneeled beside her, handed her a water bottle. She lifted her to head enough to accept it gratefully, crack it open and take a long drink.

" _Anna? Honey?"_

"I'm here," she rasped once she'd swallowed, "I got it. Locked it down."

" _Okay."_ Pops sighed, relieved.  _"Good, sweetheart, that's good. Okay. We're going to get you, your dad didn't mean to worry you like that. He just meant it might take a little longer than you were hoping."_

"I'm okay." Anna nodded quickly, even though they couldn't see her. She glanced up at her past family, then back down, embarrassed. "That's fine, I can deal. Obviously. I'll be—it's fine."

" _And you're still grounded."_

"Right." Anna winced.

" _I'm putting your dad back on the phone. Put yours on speaker."_

"Alright." Anna clicked speaker, turning to past-Dad. "I think you want to talk to you."

"Uh." Past-Dad swallowed, but didn't actually say anything else. Kind of hard to come up with an answer to that, she supposed.

" _Hey, Stark,"_ Dad said after a beat.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," past-Dad quipped.

" _You're telling me. The next two decades are gonna be a blast."_ Dad snorted.  _"Look, watch out for our kid, okay? She's got asthma, obviously, so don't let her snow you with the whole I'm-going-to-be-a-tough-little-SHIELD-agent thing—"_

"Dad!" Anna protested.

" _Stop talking, you're grounded."_ Dad shut her down.  _"Stark, listen—get her an inhaler. And checked out by a doctor, preferably Dr. Banner. I can't remember, is he back from India yet?"_

"Two months ago," past-Dad answered.

" _Good. I want to know if all this had any undesired effects."_

"Dad, I'm fine—"

" _Still grounded. Stop talking. Stark, any questions?"_

"Does 'this is the weirdest conversation of my life' count as a question?" Past-Dad made a face.

" _Trust me, it won't be for long."_ Dad snorted.

"Who's her mother?" Past-Dad questioned.

" _Jolene Kierney, unprepared teen mom in Kansas."_

"No, I mean—"

" _I know what you mean, genius, I'm you. Look: we marry our best friend, adopt a couple awesome kids, rescue an exceedingly fat dog—our future's cliché as hell and it's totally great. Let's leave it at that and not get all Back To the Future on this, alright?"_

"So not with Pepper." Past-Dad let out a long breath, but he didn't seem as crushed as earlier.

" _No."_ Dad paused.  _"She around right now?"_

"No, why?"

" _Pepper's wonderful. I mean it, I love her like a sister and I wouldn't have survived the eighties without her, but Stark? They're better. For you, for us…they're better, and they're worth everything. Trust me."_ There was a rustling sound, then Dad was back.  _"I'm at my anniversary dinner, so you'll excuse the excess of sentiment."_

"Anniversary?" Past-Dad sounded oddly wistful. "Which one?"

" _Twenty-first."_

"Christ. Seriously?"

" _With many more to come."_ Dad's voice was warm the way it always got when he talked about Pops, then he shouted, _"Hey, yeah, that's my—no, the other one—look, we're getting the car now. Anna, sweetheart, it's almost eleven, you should be getting to bed—"_

"Eleven? Where are you eating that late?" Past-Dad frowned.

" _We rent out the restaurant we had our first date at every year, but we finished eating a while ago,"_ Dad answered, distracted. Uncle Clint made a retching noise.  _"Two and a half decades and you haven't changed a bit, Barton. We've been talking, man. Grow up. You're thirty-something then, aren't you?"_

"Tony Stark, eternal child, just told me to grow up." Her uncle's jaw dropped. "I'm both offended and concerned."

"Wait, it's not eleven here," Past-Pops spoke up, perplexed. Anna made a throat-slicing motion at him.

" _Steve? Good to hear your voice,"_ Dad answered, clearly amused with himself at the joke though it only confused Past-Pops,  _"What time is it there?"_

Anna made the sign for ten with her fingers. Past-Pops frowned at her disapprovingly.

"Half past four in the morning."

" _What the—_ four  _in the_ morning?!  _Stark, what the hell? She's only fifteen! She's been with you for half an hour and you're already letting her walk all over y—"_

"I thought she  _did_ go to bed!" Past-Dad protested, "Then JARVIS told me your psycho kid was upstairs sparring with Natasha!"

" _Of course she was."_ Dad huffed.  _"Did you at least win, babydoll?"_

"One out of four." Anna grinned.

" _Good on you. Your…other parent."_ Dad phrased himself carefully, so as not to reveal Pops' identity.  _"Says to try the frontal twist they taught you a couple weeks ago, it'll knock her flat on her butt."_

"Got it." Anna grinned. Her aunt narrowed her eyes.

" _Now go—teeth, pajamas, bed. And listen, your chain of command there is Steve, Bruce, Natasha. Thor isn't back yet, past-me obviously doesn't have a clue what he's doing—"_

"Hey!"

"— _and, as always…?"_

"Do the opposite of everything Uncle Clint says," Anna finished dutifully.

" _Good girl."_

"Future you is a dick," Uncle Clint grumbled Past-Dad.

" _Don't use that kind of language around my daughter, Barton."_

"Dad," Anna complained, "It's fine, I swear worse than that—"

" _Don't tell me, I don't want to know these things."_ Dad sighed.  _"Just call us in the morning, alright? I love you, honey."_

"I love you too, Dad. I'll be fine."

" _I know, sweetheart. And put up the anti-theft shield on your phone while you're asleep, or past-me will steal it and go through it for information."_

"I would not—"Past-Dad started, then seemed to realize who exactly he was talking to. "Alright, I might."

" _Goodnight, Anna."_

"Night, Dad."

Anna shut off the call, then activated the anti-theft sequence. The blue light that lit up around the device wasn't particularly new to her—the past ten StarkPhone models had them—but it clearly surprised the others.

"Oh. You guys probably don't have that, huh?" Anna realized.

"Fantastic idea though." Dad was looking at her phone with the same look he always got when schematics were dancing through his head. It was a familiar look; Anna smiled.

"Try and pick it up." She offered her phone up. Dad eagerly reached out a hand, Pops stopped him with a hand on his wrist and a stern look at Anna.

"Is it going to shock him, or something?"

"No." Anna shook her head quickly, startled. Why was Pops so  _suspicious_ of her? She wouldn't electrocute her own dad. "No, it doesn't hurt or anything, just try it."

Dad reached out to touch it, and his hand passed right through the phone. Everyone's eyes widened in amazement, and Dad's got a touch more manic.

"It's coded to my DNA," Anna elaborated, "Once I activate anti-theft, it's only solid if I touch it."

"I want one," Uncle Clint declared.

"And you can have one…" Anna grinned, closed her hand over the phone. "In twenty years."

"Rude." Uncle Clint made a face. "I'll play you poker for it?"

"Not now, Clint. Anna should be going to bed," Pops interrupted. When Dad looked at him in surprise, a faint blush appeared high on Pops' cheeks. "I—uh. Didn't mean to—future you said…I was just trying to assist."

Eager to encourage cohesion between her parents, Anna quickly added, "Yeah, Dad always tells me to listen to him, even in the present. Uh, future. Whatever. I'll see you guys in the morning."

She started to leave, then decided against it and turned back to hug her Dad. He was clearly stunned, and kind of just stood there without actually returning it. Anna was mildly disappointed, but figured it was as good a start as any. She released him before it got too awkward.

"Night." She quickly picked up her clothes and left the gym.

* * *

"What the  _fuck."_ Clint was the first to speak once Anna— _his fucking daughter—_ left the room.

"Seconded." Tony agreed with a painful swallow. He knew he should've at least hugged the kid back, but…

Christ.

"One hell of a kid you've got there, Stark." Natasha hadn't said much while they were speaking to future him, but she offered the smallest sliver of a smile now. From Natasha, it was like a beaming grin.

"You've talked to her most, what's her…" Tony waved a hand vaguely. "Deal? What's she like?"

"We didn't talk much." Natasha shrugged slightly, but there was more forthcoming. She paused a long moment before saying, "She seems highly driven. She doesn't have powers, but she wants to be an agent."

"Agent?" Tony couldn't help his horrified expression, though Clint got a kick out of it. "Shut up, Barton—like, SHIELD agent? Like handles terrorists and goes undercover in enemy countries and gets shot at on the regular,  _that_  kind of agent?"

"I presume." Natasha seemed amused as well. Steve just looked concerned.

"If she wants to be an agent and she's trying to train, why would you let her win?" Steve asked.

"Wait, 'let' her win?" Tony seemed to be the only one surprised; Steve and Clint were both giving Natasha strange looks. She didn't answer for a moment, and Clint burst into a grin.

"Well, shit. You actually like the kid."

"She's young, she's in a new place with a lot of familiar strangers, and she was showing the signs of an asthmatic." Natasha sighed. "I didn't want her to push herself unnecessarily. I was attempting to prevent what just happened."

"Seriously? It totally looked like Anna won. Didn't it?" Tony glanced at Steve, who shook his head.

"That was kind of you," Steve told Natasha. Natasha shrugged noncommittally.

"No, it wasn't," Tony disagreed, "What if future you does that too? What if she starts thinking she's ready, when she's not? Does SHIELD even look at applicants with asthma, anyway? What if she had an attack in the middle of a gunfight? She could—"

"Tony, man, calm down." Clint laughed. "You look like  _you're_ gonna have the asthma attack. She's not even gonna be born for who knows how long, let future you deal with it."

"And it looked like she managed, anyway. Back against a wall, head between your knees, count out your inhales, hold your exhales…" Steve shrugged. "It's how I would've handled it."

"Such a coincidence, by golly." Clint rolled his eyes. Natasha elbowed him. Well, Tony didn't actually see that part, but he did see Clint double over in pain, so he assumed.

"You had asthma, didn't you?" Tony remembered, ignoring whatever was going on with the spandex twins and turning to Steve, "Along with every other disease known to mankind?"

"Sure did, and look at me now. I'm not telling you how to raise your daughter, but if she wants to be an agent and she's anything like you…" Steve shook his head, shot Tony a fond smile. "Well, asthma sure isn't going to stop her."

"You wouldn't feel that way if it was your kid trying to get themselves shot."

"She won't get shot—" Steve started.

"Weeell," Clint interjected, "Much."

" _Much?"_ Oh hell no. "I don't want my kid getting shot at all!"

"Well don't yell at me, she's not  _my_ child." Steve's settled into a thin, hard line, and that was definitely his upset face. What did he have to be upset about? It wasn't his kid getting potentially shot at.

"I'm not—I'm just—" Tony couldn't seem to finish his thought. "I don't like it."

"Tony Stark, helicopter father: who  _didn't_ see that one coming?" Clint snorted.

"Shut up," Tony replied automatically, but it had no bite.  _Father_. Christ.

"It's not a bad thing." Steve let out a heavy breath, shot Tony a half-smile. "You care about her, that's all. It's sweet."

"It's weird." Tony massaged a hand over the bridge of his nose. He was a father. He had a  _child_. "If you ever tell anyone I said this I'll deny it, but I think I need to go the fuck to sleep. I'll deal with…this, whatever 'this' is, in the morning."

"Feeling your age, Stark?" Clint snickered.

"Strangely young, actually," Tony admitted. Too young to have time-travelling children, anyway.

"We should all get some rest," Steve agreed. He caught Tony's eye meaningfully, placed a hand on Tony's shoulder and squeezed once before letting it drop.

It was Steve-ese for I'm-here-if-you-need-to-talk, and while Tony didn't anticipate taking him up on it, he appreciated the gesture. Much as he may have wanted to sleep, he knew it wasn't sleep waiting for him upstairs. It was Pepper, with the conversation she'd been trying to have and he'd been actively avoiding for…what, months? Had to be. She'd first tried to talk to him about it back in March, a few months after the whole Mandarin incident. He'd started building suits again—he'd started building them in January, when they'd moved to New York, but she'd found out in March when the Avengers had started moving in—and they'd their first huge fight.

She hadn't wanted his teammates to move in. They were a part of the world she still didn't even like to think about too much, and Tony wanted nothing more. He'd tried to play up their moving in as a tactical move to appease Fury, but the truth of it—which he would never admit to aloud—was that he'd been envisioning it since the Chitauri invasion. He'd imagined it as the college experience he'd been too much of a spoiled, mouthy brat to have: dorm living and bumping into friends in the hall and building a camaraderie, with a little saving the world on the side. How was he supposed to resist?

Pepper hadn't understood that. It was probably his fault; like always, he hadn't really bothered to explain himself. He'd fallen into old habits, expected her to read his mind…and that time, she hadn't. It was the first in a streak of misunderstandings that had only piled up and begun to spiral in the months since. They fought about everything, from Tony's duties as Iron Man to his apparently 'codependent' friendship with Steve. More often than not, he wasn't even sure what she wanted him from anymore. Regardless, every time she brought up the idea that maybe the romantic aspect of their relationship wasn't working out the way they'd hoped, Tony shut her down emphatically.

For so long, Pepper was his one good thing. Rhodey and Happy were close friends, but Pepper was the one he was closest to, the one who was around most. She understood him in ways no one had before, stayed with him longer than anyone, and he'd wanted  _desperately_  for that to mean love. And he did love her, in a way, but it was as future him had said—he loved her like a sister, and had for a while.

While he was still reluctant to let her go, he knew he'd been holding onto Pepper out of fear. He'd been holding on because he knew that so long as he did, she wouldn't be quite able to push him away. It was selfish and greedy and it was Tony Stark all over, but he'd told himself Pepper knew that about him when she'd gotten involved with him. What had she expected? But now…he had a future waiting. He'd never even hoped that all this could last. That these new friends and teammates would stick around, that he would find someone who would ever consider, would  _want,_ to hitch their life to his…yet, that was his future. The Avengers worked out. His friends stuck around. He met someone who not only married him but stayed,who wanted children and a dog and a life, a twenty-one-years-and-counting  _life,_ and…Tony couldn't bring himself to be quite so afraid anymore.

Best of all, future him still trusted Steve. He'd told Anna to listen to him above the others, at least, which obviously meant future him hadn't messed up, hadn't accidentally spilled the beans. He wondered if he'd be able to talk to future him alone for a minute. If he got the chance, he'd like to ask if the obnoxiously distracting crush on his best friend ever went away. But then…it had to have. Right? Future him had sounded genuinely happy. Future him had even said they wind up marrying their best friend. Did that mean he was going to meet someone who understood him even better than Steve? It was a daunting thought; Steve knew him too well as it was.

Tony shook such thoughts away as he exited onto his floor of the Tower. As he'd thought, Pepper awaited him. She was perched on the edge of the bed, but she had a small bag packed at her feet.

They were really doing this, then.

* * *

"How much longer can Bruce be?" Tony checked his phone for at the least tenth time in the past five minutes. "He's been running tests on her for hours!"

"I'm sure he'll be finished soon, Tony." Steve just chuckled, trying his best to hide a smile. Tony was ridiculously adorable about his daughter. "He's just doing what future you requested."

Tony and Pepper's breakup was by all accounts inevitable, but that didn't mean it couldn't still sting. So Steve had been lounging on the workshop couch all morning, doodling idly while Tony worked, waiting for him to bring it up. That was how their conversation worked best; Steve presented himself as available, Tony opened up in due time. Pushing Tony in the field worked, but in his personal life, all pushing ever did was make him clam up tighter.

He suspected Tony wouldn't be able to hold it in much longer, however. He was abuzz with energy today; he'd come into the kitchen for breakfast, checked his phone about a hundred times, asked JARVIS if Anna was up yet another hundred, announced 'oh, yeah, Pepper's moving out today' then disappeared into his workshop. Even after Anna woke up, he stayed barricaded, just told JARVIS to tell Bruce to take Anna in for testing.

Of course, the moment Anna wasn't available, he'd gotten restless and started checking his phone again. It was ridiculous; when he couldn't see her, he wanted to, when he could, he panicked and ran off. It was…well, it was adorable, frankly.

It was a strange thought. Not that Tony was being adorable—adorable was an adjective Tony despised in reference to himself and would deny vehemently that he ever was, though he could certainly be quite often—but that Tony had a daughter to act that way about. Steve was still trying to wrap his head around that, and calling Tony adorable in his head probably wasn't a good way to go about it.

Tony had a family. Or, he was going to. He was going to have a wife he clearly adored, a daughter he already did, and Steve…Steve needed to not think about that. Well, that wasn't quite accurate. He  _should_ think about that. He should think about that, should remember that, and should act accordingly. Step back.

Maybe he shouldn't bring Tony his favorite sandwich in a horrifically obvious ploy to get him to talk about his breakup. Maybe shouldn't be so guiltily, ashamedly happy they'd broken up in the first place. He  _definitely_ shouldn't be thinking of ways to get ahold of Anna's phone and talk to his future self, but how could he not?

He'd known nothing would've come of it for a while. Tony wasn't the kind of man to cheat, would never dream of hurting Pepper in that way, and Steve wouldn't have either. Acting on something and dreaming of it were entirely separate dilemmas, however, and Steve dreamed of Tony far too often. Steve had never so much as hintedat anything untoward, not while he'd known Tony was with Pepper, but…he'd thought about it. He'd known Tony and Pepper were having problems, had known their relationship was starting to crack, fracture. He hadn't  _hoped_ for it—he'd never hope for  _anything_ that hurt Tony, no matter his own personal gain—but he'd considered what he might do if they did end things between them. Wondered how Tony would react if, after a respectful amount of time passed, Steve asked him to dinner sometime. Wondered if Tony even cared for men, for Steve.

He supposed this Anna's existence answered that; he was just having a hard time remembering it.

He was trying to operate on the side of hope. Tony had found someone who, clearly, made him exceedingly happy. Steve knew all of Tony's different voices, and the one he'd heard the future Tony use over the phone while he spoke of his life, his anniversary? He was  _blisteringly_  happy, and it was a tone Steve had never heard from him before. Steve hoped his future self he had accepted Tony's happiness, been happy for him, and moved on. He wanted to believe that. He also wanted to talk to his future self and make sure, because the idea that in twenty plus years he was still going to be as head over heels gone for the man as he was now…

The thought ached in ways Steve couldn't put to words.

"She's probably just about gone by now." Tony didn't look up from his work. He had goggles on and was piecing some wires together with pliers, but Steve knew he wasn't imagining Tony speaking.

They were close friends; had been for months now. Tony told him things, talked to him about things Steve suspected Tony had never mentioned to anyone before, but he didn't like get intimate or personal about it. The more private the information, the more casually Tony liked to bring it up. Talking without even looking at Steve was nothing new. Steve made a noise of assent, enough to show he'd heard.

"I was kind of expecting a screaming match. But I guess we've had enough of those already." Tony bent over, focused more closely on the wire. "She just said she wasn't going to get in the way of my future, simple as that. She's still my boss, we're still friends, she's just…moving out. She's taking the jet out to California in an hour or so, I think. She always liked it better there anyway. Plus corporate's out west, so."

"She took it alright?" Steve rubbed away a stray pencil mark. The real question was how Tony was taking it, but he'd learned it was better to nudge his way around questions like that.

"It was all very…amicable." Tony waved a hand impatiently. "Maybe I'm getting old after all. Usually after a breakup I can expect a pregnancy scandal, or at least some need for a restraining order."

"That's not a good thing." Steve looked up sharply.

"Suppose not." Tony chuckled. "What the hell's happening to me, anyway?"

"Growth." Steve smiled wryly. "Maturity. You know, all the things you usually avoid on principle."

"Ugh." Tony made a face.

"Sir, Captain? Dr. Banner is finished with his examination," JARVIS alerted them, "He'd like to meet with you in the rec room."

"Great, I mean, fine, tell her—" Tony stood so fast he knocked his chair back; he stumbled, righted himself by grabbing the table, then grabbed the chair and righted it as well. "Shit. I—shit. Tell her we're coming up."

"Relax." Steve couldn't help a fond smile.

"I'm relaxed." Tony gave a twitching sort of look. Steve laughed. "Fuck you, I am."

"That the kind of language you want your daughter learning?" Steve teased.

"Damn it," Tony swore again, tugging off his goggles. "I mean, darn it. Oh shut up, come on."

"Uh, should I…?" Steve gestured vaguely, hopeful but not wanting to overstep.

"Well." Tony glanced back, clearly befuddled. "Yeah. Unless you'd prefer to hide out down here."

"No, I just—no." Steve quickly shut his notebook and stood. "I can make lunch."

"Hey." Tony caught his arm as he did, frowned at him curiously. "Are you okay? You've been acting weird all morning. Is it the kid thing? I mean, I get it, it's weird for me too, but it's kind of, well, interesting at least—"

"Interesting is one word." Steve chuckled. "But it's a good thing. She's a sweet kid, Tony. She makes you happy, in the future. Your whole life sounds…"

"Cliché?" Tony winced.

"Wonderful," Steve corrected with a laugh.

"It's your life too, y'know." Tony bumped his elbow, and for the briefest of moments, Steve was certain his heart stopped altogether. "Apparently we all still live together in the future."

Steve nodded. Swallowed hard, remembered to breathe. "Right. Sounds…wonderful."


	3. Chapter 3

"So about your other parent—"

"Ugh." Anna gave a dramatic groan, flopping over and putting her head between her knees. "Not you too."

"Well." Uncle Bruce chuckled. "I was going to say I needed the information for medical reasons, but I can see I've been beaten to the punch."

"By Aunt Pepper and Aunt Natasha." Anna sighed, sitting back up. She was on one of the cots in Uncle Bruce's lab. It seemed to be a makeshift medical area, and she couldn't help being just a little disdainful; back home, they had a whole division of lab space for medical care. "Which means Uncle Clint knows for sure, and Uncle Thor—huh. I didn't see him last night, come to think of it. Does he not live here, or what?"

"Sometimes." Uncle Bruce gave a mild shrug, moving away from her to make a note on his computer. "He's not around much, between Asgard and Jane's, but he's got a suite. Is he around, in your future?"

"Yeah. But Aunt Jane lives with us, so I guess that makes sense."

"How many people live with you, exactly?" Uncle Bruce glanced over his shoulder at her in concern. She got it, sort of; even in the future, Uncle Bruce wasn't a fan of crowds.

"The Avengers. Me and Peter. Aunt Jane. And Uncle Phil claims he doesn't live with us, but that's only because we can't prove otherwise."

Uncle Bruce dropped his clipboard. "Phil… _Coulson?"_

"Uh." Anna froze. "Is this a don't-talk-about-it thing?"

"No, I—no, it's fine." Uncle Bruce stuttered, bent to retrieve the clipboard. "He's alive?"

Anna examined him a minute. "Should I call my dad again before answering that?"

"No, I just…I wouldn't mention him around the others," Uncle Bruce advised, "It's a pretty raw subject for Clint and Natasha in particular, and there's still a chance you're…"

"From another reality."

"Right."

"So." Anna swung her legs while Uncle Bruce worked the numbers. "Do you meditate, now?"

"Picked it up about a year ago." Uncle Bruce glanced up at her. "Do you?"

"Yeah, you let me and Pops join you sometimes."

"Pops is…" Uncle Bruce looked amused. "Steve meditates?"

"Sort of." Anna made a face. "He gets kind of squirrelly, though."

"Serum." Uncle Bruce nodded. "He's got too much energy he needs to metabolize to sit still for long."

"Yeah. He tries anyway though because he's really big on the whole, y'know, 'bonding' thing."

"I can imagine." Uncle Bruce chuckled.

"At least he's better than Dad and Peter. They can't even keep their eyes closed for more than a few minutes."

"Peter…you mentioned him before, is that another Avenger?"

"He wishes." Anna rolled her eyes. "He's my older brother."

"More kids." Uncle Bruce shook his head with a soft snort. "When did Avengers Tower become the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse?"

"The what?"

"Children's TV show." Uncle Bruce shot her a curious look. "Before your time, I suppose."

"Just a bit." Anna grinned. "I grew up on Hallie's Hideaway and Pals & Puzzles."

"Interesting," Uncle Bruce hummed, picking up his StarkPad, "JARVIS, tell Tony I've finished and that we'll meet him in the rec room."

"Message relayed, Dr. Banner," JARVIS replied after a beat, "He and Captain Rogers will be up in a moment."

"Of course they will." Uncle Bruce chuckled.

"Do you think he'll let me in his shop after this?" Anna hopped off the cot to join Uncle Bruce in heading for the elevator. "I mean, I'm not as good as Peter, but I'm pretty decent with a wrench, and I could hand him stuff, maybe—"

"I'm sure he'll let you help." Uncle Bruce shot her a look. "Does he let you in the future?"

"Sometimes." Anna made a face. "Not a lot. Peter's better."

"How much older is he?"

"Two years, he's seventeen. And he just got accepted to Dad's alma mater, so." Anna kicked the door of the elevator as they waited for it to open. "He's kind of Dad's go-to assistant for this stuff. They're probably working on it together right now, back home."

A moment of silence passed as Uncle Bruce examined her. After a minute, the elevator dinged and the doors opened; he glanced away. They stepped inside and he pressed the button for what must've been the communal floor, or wherever their rec room was, then he turned to her.

"I watched the security video of your phone call in the gym last night. After Tony told me what happened. It seemed like relevant—and, admittedly, interesting—information. I don't know your…father, in the future, but I know him now, and I heard him over the phone. That's not a man disinterested in your existence, that's a man worried sick about his time-travelling, trouble-making, far-too-much-like-himself daughter." Uncle Bruce paused, shooting her a look. He wasn't irritated, exactly, but he seemed to have a point to make. "Your father knows what it's like to be forced into certain roles. He delights in proving how capable he is of breaking out of them, but he knows the feeling. I imagine he'd want to give you room to explore your other options instead of sticking you in a lab and labeling you an engineer just because you're a Stark."

"I guess." Anna glared at her shoes. Damn it. This was why she didn't complain to Uncle Bruce; he was too rational. And too likely to be right.

"You sound more interested in spending time with your father than engineering, anyway." Uncle Bruce glanced at her.

"It's not like he ignores me or anything. It just feels like Peter gets more time with him because Pete's more at home in the shop than I am," Anna admitted.

"And who spends more time with, uh. Your other father?" Bruce paused, puzzling that a moment. "You don't call him mom, do you?"

Anna laughed. "God, no."

"Good, I'm not sure that's an image I'd ever rid myself of." Bruce laughed as well, shaking his head.

"He's Papa. Pops, usually."

"Right. Well, who spends the most time with him?"

"Dad."

"I meant of you and Peter," Bruce clarified, but he gave a soft chuckle at her answer.

"I guess I do," Anna admitted, "He still works for SHIELD, so he's helping me prepare for the exams. We have training and—"

"Dr. Banner, Miss Anna, we're approaching the common floor and I feel the need to remind you that Captain Rogers' hearing is impeccable."

"No kidding." Anna snorted. "I tried to sneak out once and he was waiting for me, just casually blocking the gate like he always stood outside the house in his pajamas at two in the morning. I about had a heart attack. I still don't know how he got out there before I did."

The doors opened as Bruce laughed, and they entered the floor. It was sleek and urban looking, kind of retro, but then Anna supposed the style would be considered more futuristic than retro at this particular point in time. It was a combined space, with a kitchen and dining area to their left, a living room area to their right. Dad was on the couch, watching some old TV show Anna didn't recognize, while Pops moved around in the kitchen.

"Hey, are those…" Anna sniffed the air, making a beeline for Pops. "Pancakes?"

"Yeah, I, uh." Pops started, then stopped, turned towards her. "You never actually ate breakfast, I thought you might like pancakes. Even though it's more, uh, afternoon."

"Are those…" She peered around him. "You made blueberry pancakes?"

"Oh, that's right." Pops frowned. "Tony hates them. I should've realized you would too. I can make some without, it's fine, just give me a—"

"No, no, these are my favorite," Anna insisted, "Are any done?"

"Sure." He looked surprised but pleased. He seemed more open to her than last night, so that was good at least. "Here, you can have my plate, I'll make more."

"Thanks." Anna accepted the plate Pops handed her with a smile. He returned it, if only slightly.

"Hey, Anna." Dad leaned over the back of the couch, flicking off the TV with a wave of his hand. "Are you—Bruce, is she, y'know, good?"

"She's fine, Tony." Uncle Bruce just chuckled. "As your future self pointed out, she has exercise-induced asthma, but there didn't seem to be any side effects from the…time or realm travelling, whatever the case may be, as far as I could tell. Though to be fair, I'm not exactly an expert."

"Future me wanted you." Dad shrugged. "I wasn't about to argue. Partially because arguing with myself would've been weird even for me, and mostly because you heard how uppity he got about his kid."

"She's sitting right here, Tony." Pops shot Dad the I-disapprove-of-your-actions glare.

"Also," Anna pointed out around a mouthful of pancake, "His kid is your kid."

"Speaking of." Dad scooted closer. "I've been thinking."

"About?"

"Your mom."

"Oh." Anna tried not to choke on a blueberry. "I don't think you're supposed to be doing that."

"Because it could change the timeline, right, but I'm not certain you're actively affecting it. If you could, wouldn't my future self have memories of that time I prematurely met my own daughter?"

"Theoretically?" Anna admitted with a shrug. "Time travel isn't really a regular thing for me, I'm not totally sure how it's all supposed to work."

"Exactly, none of us do. Think of it as an experiment! You even get to see what your mom looked like twenty years ago. And hey, you can say you introduced your parents, that's cool, right?"

"I'd go with 'disturbing' before 'cool'." Anna made a face.

"Tony." Pops stepped in, passing Dad a plate of pancakes minus the blueberries. "Let her eat."

"But I—"

"Future you told me not to tell you." Anna stabbed another bite. "I already broke three rules going into your shop, touching your things, and being out after curfew, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to be the inventor and first breaker of a new 'no time-travelling' rule. I think I'm going to try listening to my parents for a little while."

"Always a good idea." Pops agreed, passing the next plate to Bruce. "Drop it, Tony."

"Is he still like this in the future?" Dad muttered to her as he joined them at the table.

"I dunno," Anna deflected with a shrug. She thought she'd done so fairly smoothly, but now Pops had a strange look on his face. "What?"

He just shook his head. Anna opened her mouth to say something else, but Uncle Clint barreled into the kitchen and distracted her.

"So, short stack." Uncle Clint dropped into the seat across from her. "How many questions can you answer about the future without causing an apocalyptic paradox?"

"Depends on the questions."

"Fair enough." Uncle Clint accepted her answer seriously. "Have we managed to clone pet dinosaurs yet, and do you have one?"

"No and no." Anna snorted. "Well, there is Jurassic Park, but I wouldn't call them pets, they kind of roam free. It's just the one island though, and it was abandoned after the incident anyway."

Every adult in the room turned to stare at her in horror.

"Joking!" she protested.

"I see you have your dear mommy's dry as hell humor." Clint snorted. Anna flicked a blueberry at his forehead. He raised a mildly impressed eyebrow. "You have pretty decent aim."

"I have an uncle who's been dragging me to the archery range since I was ten."

Uncle Clint's mouth hung open for a moment, then he promptly gathered her plate, stood, and dumped it ceremoniously in the sink.

"Clint!" Pops reprimanded, "What's wrong with y—"

"Oh, look at that, she's done eating," Uncle Clint announced, turning to Dad, "I'm stealing your kid for an hour."

"What?"

"Bye." Uncle Clint grabbed her arm and hauled her along.

"Wait, Anna—" Dad started, but Anna just laughed. She hadn't been to the range with her uncle in ages.

"It's fine, I'll be back in an hour!"

* * *

"It's been more than an hour," Tony complained.

"It's been an hour and two minutes." Steve glanced at his phone, then shot Tony an exasperated look. This was his sixth complaint in the past fifteen minutes. They were still in the rec room, Steve trying to watch the basketball game and Tony pretending not to watch the clock.

"Which is more than an hour," Tony insisted, "Should Clint even be allowed around children? He  _does_ kill people for a living."

"Can you blame her for running off?" Steve sighed, not acknowledging the jab at Clint's profession. "You avoided her all morning, then when you finally saw her, all you did was interrogate her about her mother."

"What else am I supposed to do with a kid?" Tony threw up his hands. "I don't have any toys. What toys do fifteen year olds play with, anyway?"

"They don't." Steve rolled his eyes. "Ask about her. Find out what she'slike, what she's interested in. What are her friends like? What subjects does she enjoy in school? What does she do in her free time? You know she wants to be a SHIELD agent; ask her why."

"Should've been your kid that came back." Tony sighed. "You're clearly better at this than I am."

"You'll be fine, Tony," Steve assured, "Just try and ask about anything except who her mother is for a few minutes. Attempt an actual conversation with her."

"I can do that. And I will, but…shit, Steve." Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. "Marriage just isn't something I've ever considered to be—people don't stick around that long, y'know? Twenty-one years. Christ. Considering my profession and general luck, it's a miracle I'm still alive in twenty-one years, much less with all…that. So I know I'm focusing on the who-is-she guessing game, but it's driving me crazy knowing there's someone out there who genuinely wants to put up with me for twenty-one years and counting, and I can't do a thing about it."

_I would spend twenty-one years with you in a heartbeat._

Steve winced.

"That's fair." He leaned back into the couch. "But Anna's fifteen. She's not going to understand that. All she's going to understand is that you're more interested in learning about your future than you are in getting to know her."

Tony gave a small hum of agreement, pursing his lips in thought.

"What?" Steve prompted.

"It's pointless, you don't have any way of knowing."

"Try me."

Tony blew out a sigh. "Exclude my reactions yesterday, and today; call it a learning curve. Based just on what you know about me, and what you heard of future me on the phone…do you think, I mean, all random variables aside and assuming—"

"You're going to be a wonderful father, Tony." Steve silenced his needless worries with a small smile. "There's not a doubt in my mind."

" _Dad!"_

The panicked shriek startled them both; they'd been leaning a little closer together than Steve had realized.

"JARVIS?" Tony demanded as he stood, worry prevalent in his voice.

"Agent Barton is threatening physical harm to Miss Anna, though I do not believe he would seriously attempt an—"

"Dad!" Anna blurted again as she raced into the room, Clint hot on her tail. They were both a mess; their clothes were rumpled, their hair was in disarray, and they were getting goo and feathers  _everywhere._ "It's not my fault, he started it, he used a net arrow on me when we specifically said no special arrows—"

"We said no  _trick_ arrows, a net isn't a trick—"

"Of course it's a trick! What  _else_ would it be?"

"Well,  _you're_  the one who had to go and involve the sticky arrows!"

"How was  _I_ supposed to know they were still in beta testing?"

"You should know not to touch other people's things, were you raised in a barn?"

"You were raised in a carnival and my manners are still better than yours!"

"When I get my hands on you, I swear, I don't care if you're Stark's spawn, I'm going to tear you apart!"

"Don't call my kid spawn, Barton!" Tony snapped.

"Dad,  _help!"_

"I'm trying!" Tony flailed somewhat helplessly, attempting to get his hands on either one of them, but he didn't seem to have much luck. "Steve, a little—"

"Help, got it." Steve snatched Clint up by the back of his shirt, then Anna, and held them apart at arms length.

"Involving Steve is cheating!" Clint made an indignant face at Anna.

"I didn't involve him, Dad did!"

"Like you knew he would!" Clint accused.

"Being from the future doesn't mean I know  _everything_ —"

"Don't play innocent with me, I see right through you—"

"Clint," Steve commanded the archer's attention in his most serious voice, "You're arguing with a fifteen year old. Think about that."

"You may have him wrapped around your little pinkie," Clint ignored Steve completely to narrow his eyes at Anna, "But I'm on to you."

Anna stuck out of her tongue. Clint lunged for her. Steve threw him on the couch.

"What the hell, this isn't my fau—" Clint started.

"I don't care whose fault it is," Steve told him sternly, "She's younger than you. Be mature and let it go."

"Wow, some things really don't change." Anna's eyes went a little wide. "That's super weird. Does it count as déjà vu if there's time travel involved?"

"What?" Steve was lost.

"Nothing." Anna smiled at him. "Just thanks, uh, Mr. Rogers."

In spite of the smile, Steve's heart sunk. Mr. Rogers? Everyone else had been addressed as a family member, even Pepper. He was  _Mr. Rogers?_ If that wasn't enough, Clint's snickering only served to make him feel worse.

"You can call me Steve, if you want," he offered.

"Oh, uh." Anna stared at the carpet. "Cool."

Steve felt so damn helpless. What  _happened_ to him, that his best friend's child barely knew him? Was he dead? Or just so selfishly, arrogantly bitter that he couldn't even be happy for Tony?

Steve steeled himself. "I'm not around in your future, am I?"

"What?" Anna gaped. He wasn't sure how to take that.

"Don't be stupid, of course you're still around." Tony frowned at him, then turned to Anna with an equally perturbed expression, as if she had some say in it. "Of course he's still around."

"He is!" Anna held up her hands innocently.

"But yesterday on the phone, your father said it was 'good to hear my voice'," Steve reminded her, "And this morning, when this him asked if I behaved the same in the future, you said you didn't know. Not to mention everyone else is Aunt or Uncle, but you called me Mr. Rogers."

"That's nothing, really, that's just—" Anna started, but Steve just carried on.

"Anna, it's alright. If you don't know me, if I'm not around in your future, this has got to be hard enough on you without some stranger making you uncomfortable. I don't want to make this worse for you. I can leave the Tower for a few days if that will—"

" _What?"_ Tony jumped in at the same moment Anna insisted, " _No!"_

"You're all complete idiots, I hope you know that." Clint only rolled his eyes.

"Don't belittle her, Clint." Steve shot him a pointed glare. "She has enough on her plate at the moment, she shouldn't have to deal with some stranger making himself at home too—"

"No no no, please don't leave," Anna rushed forward, startling him by grabbing his shirtsleeve. "Please, don't. I'm comfortable, I swear, you have to believe me—"

"I, uh." Steve tried to remember his point. But she wouldn't just rush up and grab someone she didn't know, would she? "It was just an offer, I won't if you don't want me to. You just…you speak Russian for Natasha, you shoot arrows like Clint, you can get Bruce to laugh louder than I've ever heard, but you can't even call me by name. That doesn't sound very comfortable."

"That's just not what I call you. Calling you 'Steve' is…" Anna fidgeted awkwardly, dropping her grip on his sleeve, apparently convinced he wouldn't dash out the door the moment she did. "Really weird. Trust me."

"What do you call me?"

"I—uh—Cap. Dad does, so I picked it up. Can I call you that, instead?"

"Yes, of course. So I'm still an Avenger?"

"Definitely," Anna nodded quickly, "You're the team leader, Dad never shuts up about how they couldn't do anything without you."

Steve couldn't help asking. "So he and I are still friends?"

"The very best." Anna smiled in assurance.

"Best except for Stark's spouse, of course." Clint cleared his throat loudly. "Remember that phrase future Stark used, something about  _marrying his best friend?"_

"People change, that's fine." Steve forced a smile. Clint was apparently determined to be even more of an ass than usual, it seemed, probably payback for Steve throwing him on the couch. "So long as we're still friends."

"Duh, Cap." Tony seemed to be attempting to look condescending, but it was coming out like a grin. "Always."

"It's a miracle you managed to get adopted at all," Clint muttered to Anna.

"Clint, I think it's high time you and I ran some drills together." Steve offered Clint his sharpest smile. Clint groaned; without supersoldier muscles, drills weren't training, they were torture. Steve wasn't sure where the comment about Anna not deserving to get adopted came from, but it certainly warranted a little torture. "That, or I could always inform Natasha that you tried to kill her new favorite niece earlier."

"Well you don't have to be cruel," Clint muttered, right as Anna's phone rang. Clint made a dive for it, but Steve shoved him back onto the couch.

"Don't even think about it."

"Hello?" Anna answered. There was a long pause, while Steve admittedly strained to hear. "I'm going to put you on speaker, alright? I'm with you, Uncle Clint, and, uh, Cap."

" _Hey all."_ Future Tony greeted once she'd set it to speakerphone.  _"Okay, so I bit the bullet and called in Dr. Richards and Dr. McCoy. We've been at work all day, and while I wouldn't say we're particularly close, we're definitely getting somewhere. We'll be able to pull you back honey, I'm sure of it. The fact that your phone's temporally connected to the present—well, our present—means you most likely are too; we just have to work on identifying your specific signature amongst, admittedly, a lot of signatures. We're working on it night and day though."_

"Got an estimate?" their Tony asked.

" _Two days. Maybe three,"_ future Tony assured,  _"Not long."_

"Have you figured out why don't you remember meeting your own spawn?" Clint spoke up.

" _Don't call my kid 'spawn', Barton,"_ future Tony threatened,  _"And if anything, that proves that we do in fact get her back, because we must end up fixing the temporal loop."_

"So once she's gone, we won't remember her?" Steve wasn't certain how that was supposed to work.

"No." Their Tony frowned. "No, they're going to have Anna go back to when she first arrived."

" _Exactly,"_ Future Tony agreed,  _"Once we can get the machine to do a remote pull, my past self is going to have to give her JARVIS' temporary blackout code, then we'll send her back. She'll arrive a moment or so before her past self does, give the code so there's no technological evidence of her arrival, stick around just long enough to intercept herself, then—"_

"Won't that cause some kind of black hole, apocalyptic shit?" Clint raised an eyebrow.

"Theoretically, it's simpler than that." Their Tony shook his head. "Two of her from the same timestream shouldn't be able to exist at once."

" _Precisely. If she's there at the moment she's supposed to arrive, she won't ever actually arrive. She'll erase her own appearance."_

"Won't that erase my existence, too?" Anna looked nervous.

" _Absolutely not,"_ Future Tony assured,  _"I would never let that happen."_

"But isn't that just killing her past self, which would then become her future self?" Steve reasoned.

"I'm really confused," Clint admitted.

" _It's time travel, it tends to be confusing."_ Future Tony sighed.  _"I'll explain as simply as I can: say Anna killed one of you, probably Clint—"_

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this line of—"Clint began.

"Go on," Steve interrupted.

" _Right, so say she killed Clint in your time. In my time, he would disappear and I would have no memory of him living beyond whenever she killed him. So if Anna's about to run into a past Anna, this enacts a paradox that's admittedly similar: since two Anna's can't exist at once, the Anna travelling back won't make it through to your time, meaning the Anna that resulted from the whole affair—the one with you, right now—will disappear. This means that—"_

"I'm going to  _disappear?"_ Anna exclaimed.

"Christ, Stark." Clint looked disgusted. "She's your kid."

"I thought you said this was safe," Steve objected as well, deeply unnerved that this future Tony would ever even suggest it, "You can't actually be saying you're going to erase your own daughter."

"If that's your idea of a solution, she's staying right here until you can find a better one," their Tony agreed vehemently with Steve.

" _I wasn't finished, actually, but good to know you all have so much faith in me."_ Future Tony chuckled.  _"Time isn't as fragile a thing as we tend think it is. It's messy and confusing but, ultimately, very capable of course-correcting itself. All that will happen is that Anna will snap back to the moment she tried to turn on the time machine, and this time it won't work. She'll lose some memories, as will the rest of you, but no harm will come to her. I'm a little insulted you'd all think I would put her in danger, actually, but I'll blame it on your youth."_

"My head hurts now," Clint complained.

"Theoretically, I agree." Their Tony ignored Clint to address his future self. "But that's all I'm hearing, theory, and none of this is anything I'm comfortable making Anna test. I'd rather she stay here than—"

" _First of all,"_ Future Tony interrupted with unexpected sharpness, " _Your comfort is irrelevant, particularly considering the fact that you're never going to remember this happened—"_

"I wouldn't say irrelevant, I  _am_  technically—"

" _Second."_ Future Tony steamrolled right on.  _"And I want you to listen close: you and I will one day be the same person. This is most certainly your future, and don't doubt for a second that it's going to be damn wonderful. A large part of that is a daughter you will adore with every fiber of your being, but she isn't yours yet. You haven't dragged yourself out of bed at every ungodly hour in the morning known to man to feed that baby girl. You haven't explained to your board members why your latest design schematics have glitter crayon drawings of princesses on them. You haven't held her tight and dried her tears and felt like the shittiest father in the world when you took your eyes off her for two seconds and she broke her ankle falling out of a tree. You haven't spent six of the most awful hours of your entire life blasting your way through Latveria—illegally, I might add—to bring her home safe and sound. You haven't gone to her parent-teacher conferences, haven't shaved years off your life teaching her to drive, haven't chased away the pretty-faced morons she brings home that aren't worth so much as a second of her time. You will. But you haven't yet. And until you do, she is not your daughter, that is not her home, and you are not her 'technically' anything. Appreciate what's coming to you, but don't you dare think for a moment this turns out any other way than her coming_   _home."_

"Dad," Anna mumbled, clearly mortified, "He knows that. He just didn't think the way you're suggesting is safe."

Steve wasn't so sure. Tony, for all he pretended he didn't,  _wanted_  this. Steve had seen him come to life around the Avengers; he pretended he didn't care, that they were just annoying houseguests, but it was so painfully obvious to Steve how much this all meant to Tony. He sought them out with problems or questions or what have you too often to be coincidence, and he hadn't missed a team event yet despite his endlessly busy schedule and how much he liked to act as if he'd been dragged. Tony liked what they had together, because they were more than teammates and friends—they were on their way to being a family. Tony wanted that, clearly, and it was understandable that he wanted a real one someday, too.

" _Sure, sweetheart."_ Future Tony clearly knew exactly what his past self had meant.  _"But rest assured, you'll be perfectly safe. Your other parent and I have found a few…discrepancies we think are the result of your visit, which we're taking to mean everything turns out just fine."_

"What discrepancies?"

" _We'll talk more about that later when it's just you and me. I wanted to give you an update though, and make sure you're doing alright."_

"I'm fine," Anna assured, "Cap was going to leave though."

" _Why on earth would he do that?"_ Future Tony demanded. Then, his voice somewhat muffled as he spoke to someone else,  _"Christ, past you is apparently an idiot."_

"I can still hear you," Steve told him, amused, "Am I there?"

" _Well, I stand by it."_ Future Tony only snorted.  _"And yes, you're here, but more importantly, pray tell why you're trying to abandon my child?"_

"There was mix-up, that's all. I thought—she seemed uncomfortable. Apparently I'm different in your time."

" _Eh, somewhat. Love changes people, I guess, but you don't seem all that different to m—"_ Someone must've grabbed the phone, but through the muffled end Steve still caught someone that sounded an awful lot like himself say something about not messing with the past. Future Tony shot back something about it all getting erased anyway, so Steve tried to press him for an answer.

"Love? I'm in love, in the future?" Steve moved forward so future Tony could hear him better. "With who?"

" _Sure, of course you're in love. The who is unimportant, look, why's everyone freaking out about their future, anyway? Clearly the world hasn't ended yet. Everyone's happy, life works out, and I get to show off how great my kid is to my past self and friends. Why get hung up on the details?"_

"I'm not hung up on it," Steve tried to defend himself, despite it being completely and utterly true, "I was just curious."

" _Chill, Capsicle,"_ Future Tony assured him, teasing amusement in his voice, " _You're married to the sexiest man alive, your life is just fine."_

Steve had considered a lot of possible ways to come out to his teammates.

That had definitely not been one.


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh."

Steve really hoped his voice didn't sound quite as squeaky to the others as it did to himself.

" _I wasn't out yet then, Tony! For Christ's sake, would you think before you speak for once?"_ That was definitely his future self's voice, but Steve was too distracted watching and gauging Tony's reaction to focus on extracting more information.

He wasn't at all sure what the stunned look Tony was giving him meant.

"You're…?" Tony blinked.

" _He's bisexual, just like you, what a funny little coinciden—"_  future Tony began, only for Steve's future self to talk over him.

" _Give me the phone, you're taking far too much pleasure in this,"_ his future self demanded, and future Tony made a noise that sounded vaguely like an  _oof._

" _Just think about who you want it to be!"_ future Tony yelped before the phone was taken away from him, but Steve heard him just fine.

Steve tried his best not to look at Tony, but carefully buried hope was rushing to the surface faster than Steve could possibly contain it; he looked. Tony was staring right back at him, eyes still unreadable.

" _How do you know if I was interested back then? The team had barely started,"_ his future self tried to salvage, but Steve wasn't listening.

He married Tony?

_He married Tony?_

He married Tony. He had a future with Tony. A cliché, wonderful future, in a mansion somewhere with their friends and their adopted children and their fat dog enjoying the life they built for themselves, the life in which  _Tony was his fucking husband—_

"You're in love with someone on the team?" Tony asked carefully. Steve just laughed. There was nothing to do but laugh, because Tony didn't get it yet or didn't want to admit it to himself but when he did he was going to be laughing too. Tony kept talking. Steve kept laughing. "Tell me it's not Clint, I don't care if it makes me look homophobic or un-American or whatever, I will puke. You can do so much better than that, Steve, stop  _laughing_ at me—"

"I'd be offended by that, but you're so fucking stupid I can't even really be bothered," Clint told Tony.

" _You're right, Tony, I can do a lot better—"_ future Steve started.

"Okay, now I'm offended." Clint scowled.

"— _think genius billionaire committed husband philanthropist better,"_ future Steve finished.

" _You didn't really care if we told them, you just wanted to use that stupid line,"_ future Tony accused.

Their future selves were still bickering and his Tony— _his_ Tony, perhaps really his—was still just staring, but hope had begun to filter through the carefully guarded doubt in Tony's eyes. After entirely too long, Tony mouthed  _yeah?_ at him silently _,_ as if double-checking to see if Steve had come to the same conclusion. Steve didn't really answer, but the beaming grin must've tipped Tony off because it was only split second before he was across the room and in Steve's arms. Steve caught him around the waist, lifting him off the ground with open, unbridled enthusiasm. He laughed again, because he was so damn happy it felt foolish to try and contain it behind a simple smile, and Tony exhaled a stunned swear of  _holy fucking shit._

"Wait—" Steve started, not releasing Tony—not without someone prying him away—but leaning enough to look around him.

"What? Wait? Why wait?" Tony looked immediately distraught. "No waiting, I did my waiting, twelve years of it in—never mind, you wouldn't get that reference—"

" _Ah, that takes me back."_ Future Tony chuckled.  _"Remember when you were young and innocent and didn't get my references?"_

" _Remember when you were young and not at all innocent and constantly, ludicrously impatient?"_ his future self responded with a snort.

"Anna," Steve continued, ignoring everyone else's chatter to get a look at her, "If I marry Tony then that makes Anna my—"

"Told you it was weird to call you Steve." Anna gave an awkward little half-smile half-shrug that was so him all over it blew him away that he hadn't seen it before. "Papa."

She sort of inched forward, seeming unsure, so Steve got a hand around her to tug her into his and Tony's embrace. This was going to strange and awkward and hard to navigate later—maybe even in a minute or two—but for the moment Steve had never been happier in his life so he gripped them both a little tighter and held on to them while he could.

" _So it takes time travel to hear you call me Papa again, huh?"_ his future self teased Anna.

"Po-ops," Anna complained, "We were having a moment."

" _We have moments,"_ future Tony said indignantly,  _"We have lots of moments!"_

"I don't think we've ever had a my-past-dads-just-realized-I'm-their-daughter moment."

" _Better moments!"_ future Tony insisted,  _"Remember Disneyland a few months ago, when they wanted to hire your Pops as a Captain America impersonator? Or skiing in Vancouver last Christmas, when we got snowed in? How about when you introduced us to Cooper Jackson, that was a moment—"_

"His name was Jack Cooper, and that was a  _horrible_ moment!" Anna withdrew from Steve and Tony to yell at the phone, now on a couch cushion. The device seemed able to pick up their voices fine from nearly anywhere in the room. "Uncle Clint shot him!"

"Self-five!" Clint whooped.

" _Only with a paintball gun, sweetheart,"_ his future self pacified.

" _No need to overreact,"_ future Tony agreed.

"Overreacting is  _shooting_ someone just for entering the house!" Anna insisted.

"We should probably be more concerned about…whatever's going on with that," Steve pointed out to Tony.

No one was listening to them anymore, or even looking at them. Anna was arguing with her future parents, and Clint was busy insisting that his future self had been in the right despite not knowing anything about the actual situation.

"Probably," Tony agreed, but he was already closing his eyes.

Kissing Tony was both strangely calming and utterly exhilarating. On the one hand, for all his dreaming, he'd never actually kissed Tony before and every cell in his body wanted to race with the excitement of it. He wanted to grab Tony and never let go, wanted to immediately haul him away to a brightly lit room with those expensive and utterly worth it sheets that felt like angel feathers to explore this new, brilliant thing between them alone together.

Yet, this wasn't entirely new. A new activity, certainly, a new facet of intimacy to an already fairly intimate relationship, but this wasn't a daring risk, wasn't a shot in the dark at a love that might burn out. This was his best friend. His future husband. There was a sense of security, of promise, in knowing that this was the person he'd be relying on for the rest of his life. The man he'd comfort and be comforted by, the man he'd laugh and cry and fight with, the man he'd love as long as they both lived. The kissing bit was new, yes, but it still felt wonderfully, perfectly familiar.

"I'm going to be so good to you," Tony promised softly, nothing more than a whisper.

"I know." Steve smiled and kissed him again.

" _Aw, remember when we were that sappy?"_ future Tony crowed proudly.

" _You're still that sappy,"_ Steve's future self replied immediately.

" _All I ever do is love you, and all you ever do is sass me,"_ future Tony grumbled,  _"I wanted a marriage built on love and trust, but no, I get sass and abuse."_

" _You didn't want a marriage built on love and trust, you didn't even_ discuss  _marriage until you suddenly decided in the middle of a Skrull invasion—"_

" _I thought we were going to die!"_

" _We almost die every other day, it wasn't_ new _."_

" _Come on, looking at you and having a lightning strike realization that there wasn't anything in the world I wanted more than you for the rest of my life isn't a_ little  _bit romantic?"_

" _Announcing over the comms that we should swing by city hall after this and 'get hitched' wasn't."_

" _We didn't actually_ do  _that, I don't know what you're complaining about—"_

" _I'm not_ complaining,  _I'm pointing out that if you wanted a marriage built on love and trust, you should maybe say so in your proposal instead of 'let's do this thing', like marrying me was some kind of mission—"_

" _It was spur of the moment, okay? I didn't exactly have time to write you a speech, what with the Skrulls trying to kill me and all, I really don't think you're giving me enough credit for that—"_

" _If you don't have time to make it special you wait and do it later, what's so hard about that_ —"

" _Because I couldn't wait another second to be your fiancé—"_

" _Don't try and pretend this is about you being a romantic when we both know this is entirely about you having awful impulse control—"_

"Does this happen a lot?" Tony—his Tony,  _really_ his Tony—leaned over a bit to ask Anna. Their future counterparts seemed to have forgotten anyone else could hear them. Or existed.

Anna shot him a dully unimpressed look. "Every day of my life."

"I could live with that." Tony tried to turn his smile into a smirk, but it wasn't fooling anyone. Steve leaned into him again, hip to hip, one arm slinging around his waist affectionately as he tugged Tony's head closer, pressed a kiss to his hair.

"Just live with it, huh?" he teased.

"This is the straight up rom part of this rom-com, huh?" Clint made a face. "Right. I'm out."

"Take me with you?" Anna pleaded, "Two of them was bad enough."

"Hey!" Both Tony's protested.

"Wait." Steve stopped her with a careful hand on her arm. "I, uh. I haven't really gotten a moment with you, yet. If you want, I'd like to…spend some time with you, maybe?"

"Sure." Anna's answering grin was bright and immediate.

"Sappy family time? Yep, definitely out." Clint gave a sloppy salute, and disappeared out the door.

" _Suppose we ought to sign off as well,"_ future Tony agreed,  _"Got a time machine to fix, and all."_

" _Not right now you don't."_

Oh, wow. Steve felt the heat rush to his face.

"Ew, Pops." Anna groaned. "Could you not?"

"Go future me?" Tony looked confused, unsure whether to be excited or not about sex he wouldn't actually get for another twenty-odd years.

" _I_ meant," his future self corrected primly in a voice that clearly insinuated  _you perverts, "That he's been up all night working on that time machine, and that you'll be perfectly fine if he gets some sleep before continuing."_

" _I don't need sleep, I need to—"_

" _You need sleep, honey. You've been up for seventy-two hours, I can officially invoke the sleep clause. In fact, I am, I'm invoking. Come on, into bed."_

" _Okay, okay—quit_ pushing,  _I'm going. You know if you invoke the sleep clause you have to come to bed with me, it's in the rules, don't you try and cheat me, old man."_

Everyone waited for future Steve to clarify again that it wasn't as dirty as it sounded, that it only meant 'come to bed for sleep', or that they were kidding about the 'sleep clause' altogether. Silence. Finally, future Steve said,  _"We'll call you when we've made more progress, Anna."_

Then, a small beeping noise.

"They hung up," Anna informed them. She didn't look surprised, though she did look resignedly grossed out.

Silence fell again. The three of them stood a strange, not quite close, not quite distant triangle apart. Anna pocketed her phone and glanced between them. Tony scratched the back of his neck and looked up at the ceiling awkwardly. Steve realized quickly that if he wanted to spend time with them he was going to have to be the one to figure out how that would work. Tony was likely to bolt down to the workshop with some excuse if left to the awkwardness a moment longer, and Steve suspected Anna was like her father in that way, and would find some reason to go after Clint.

"Do you like movies?" Steve blurted, the first thing that came to mind.

"Definitely," Anna jumped on the opening, "Anything action, or adventure. Sci-fi's alright, fantasy's good depending on what kind—the Tolkien trilogies are my favorite, I can pretty much quote them all by heart."

Tony and Steve immediately snapped to attention.

" _Both_  trilogies?" Steve clarified.

"You've seen the last Hobbit movie?" Tony's eyes lit up, and he grabbed Steve's arm excitedly. "Steve,  _she's seen the last Hobbit movie!"_

"I've seen all the Hobbit movies." Anna seemed confused. "Haven't you? You guys made me and Peter watch them, like, a hundred times."

"There and Back Again isn't out yet, but you said you can quote it, can you quote the whole thing? Don't forget to include actions and scenery and characters, really paint a picture—"

"Tony, don't make her recite it," Steve told him, though he couldn't help asking eagerly, "But could you maybe describe it a little?"

Anna laughed. "Sure you want me to ruin it for you?"

"Yes," they both insisted at once.

* * *

"I'm gonna puke," Clint whispered to Natasha.

"Get used to it." She was unsympathetic.

Their rec room held what could only be described as a puppy pile. Tony was in the middle of the couch, Steve curled up to his left with an arm around his shoulders, his free hand absently petting Anna's hair. Anna was stretched out lengthways to Tony's right, her head in Tony's lap and her feet in Bruce's. She hogged the popcorn bowl, though Tony and Bruce were taking turns stealing from her whenever she wasn't looking. A fight raged on-screen in what looked like The Two Towers.

"I don't remember signing up to be on the Brady Bunch," Clint grumbled, still skulking in the doorway with Natasha, "Did you hear? Bruce said there's another one, too. Paul, or something."

"Peter," Natasha corrected.

"Right, whatever."

"Green isn't a good color on you," Natasha remarked calmly.

"I'm not jealous."

"You're jealous," Natasha said, unperturbed, "And that's normal."

"I'm not jealous!" Clint insisted, though he kept his voice low. Then, with another glance at the Perfectville McHappy family, "I'm just gonna puke, that's all."

"We're not idle bystanders, you know. We have our place." Natasha lips turned up, just barely. "Uncle Clint."

Clint debated that. "You think?"

"She's been eager to see us so far. Preoccupied with her parents, yes, but eager. She learned Russian from me, how to shoot a bow from you, and I'm more than certain she's learned plenty from Bruce and apparently Thor as well. We're not unwanted houseguests in 'their' future, Clint." Natasha left the shadows of the doorway, walking towards the couch. "It's our future too."

"Where've you been?" Tony demanded, turning his head as he heard them approach, "I told JARVIS to fetch you a movie and a half ago."

"Move, дурак," Natasha simply ordered, swatting Tony's feet down so she could get by.

"Wait, me?" Tony frowned at Natasha. "I thought that was Clint's name in Russian."

"Might as well be." Natasha gave a soft laugh as she took the corner of the L-shaped couch, and propped her feet up into Steve's lap. "It means idiot."

"I take offense to that," Clint told him, sliding in beside Natasha to lean his back against her shoulder and take the other half of the couch to stretch his legs.

"I'm insulted," Tony announced.

"It means idiot fondly, though," Anna pointed out, "It's kind of like when you call Pops a dork."

"Aw, you mean that fondly?" Steve teased, "I never knew."

"Shut up." Tony grinned. "Dork."

"All of you shut up, Legolas is about to say one of his two lines, I want to hear it!" Clint protested.

Silence fell, right up until Legolas was opening his mouth to speak on-screen, at which point Tony gestured to Clint.

"Well, go on, Legolas, speak."

Clint threw the nearest pillow at Tony's face, but Steve intercepted it with one hand.

"Okay, just because you're Captain America's…" Clint squinted at them. "…person, doesn't mean you get to use him as a free bodyguard."

"Pretty sure that's exactly what it means," Tony disagreed, grabbing another handful of popcorn. Clint looked to Steve for vindication, but Steve shrugged at him unhelpfully.

"Am I the only one who thinks this is awful?" Clint demanded.

"Yes," literally every person in the room who wasn't him resounded.

Clint scowled and sank back into Natasha's shoulder with crossed arms. His family was a bunch of know-it-alls. Which would definitely be a pain in the ass in this whole Brady Bunch-esque future he apparently had coming to him, but, well. Having people to call family didn't sound quite so bad.

* * *

It wasn't three days, but five.

Anna wasn't generally an antsy person—okay, that was bullshit, she was laughably impatient—but being in the past was kind of starting to freak her out. Her past parents meant well, but they were…weird. She liked them, and they were obviously trying, but they weren't  _her_ parents. They were more like cool but distant uncles, and clearly, strangely bad with teenagers. Like, really bad.

Anna was used to parents who understood her. Who left her alone, generally, but were there for her when she needed them and could spend time with her without making it some kind of awkwardly forced Bonding Time event. They didn't know how to talk around her, either, alternating between walking on eggshells around her like a four year old, and letting go completely, forgetting how weird it was to hear her Dad say 'fuck' every other sentence. It was a seesaw of too much and too little, where they were obviously trying to make her feel as welcome as possible but by trying so hard only made it even more obvious how out of place she was. At home things were just so much…easier. No one sat her down for awkward talks or pushed attempts at bonding; it just kind of happened. Not to mention they were clearly more interested in each other than her at this point anyway, no matter how much they tried to be nice and pretend otherwise.

Basically, it was really weird to realize your parents weren't ready to be parents.

Her aunt and uncles were a little better, probably because there wasn't the pressure of this-is-your-future-kid and they weren't in brand new relationships, but even then, there were strange moments. They were tentative around her, still feeling her out, and Anna couldn't help feeling judged. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but they were assessing her and drawing parallels and trying to  _solve_ her or something, and it was nothing like the comfortable, easy relationships she was used to with them.

She waited impatiently for The Call, but though her parents—the real ones—called her twice a day to make sure she was alright and dealing with everything okay, they didn't have a solution on the third day, or the fourth, and it made Anna antsy. Technically, she knew it didn't really matter if she was here four days or four weeks or even four years; by the end of it all, everyone would forget anything had ever happened, even her.

Still.

She wanted to go home.

So when her phone rang on the fifth day in the middle of a demonstration of the horrors of reality TV, Anna wasn't embarrassed to say she pretty much dove for her phone.

" _We've got it!"_ Dad crowed immediately, without so much as a hello.

"It's ready?" Anna brightened.

" _You're coming home, honey,"_ Pops confirmed.

"That's fantastic, I—" She paused, glancing at past Dad and past Pops. They were smiling, but it was wistful. "Can I say goodbye?"

" _None of you will remember it."_  Dad chuckled.  _"But sure, go ahead. Dr. Richards says we can sit on this if we need to. No more than a fifteen minutes or so though, or we'll lose our grip on your signature and it'll take another week to find again."_

" _Pass me off to me for a minute first, would you?"_ Pops instructed,  _"We've got something to go over."_

"Got it." Anna nodded, handing the phone to past Pops. "It's for you."

"Me?" Past Pops blinked, then accepted the phone and held it to his ear. "Hello?"

"So you're really going, huh?" Past Dad asked while past Pops fell silent to listen to himself over the phone.

"Seems like it." Anna gave a little half-shrug, tried for a smile and a joke. "Guess we'll see each other around though."

"Someday." Past Dad smiled back, tossing a fond glance at past Pops. Yeah. Anna's time would come, but it clearly wasn't now.

"Yes, but how did you know about—right, you're me, of course. And I add—? Oh. Yes. It's up in my room, I'll go get it." Past Pops abruptly handed Anna the phone, and left the room with little more than a quick, "Be right back."

"What's he getting?" Anna asked Pops.

" _Remember the discrepancies we were telling you about the other day?"_ he reminded her,  _"This is one of them. You need to take something back with you to the night you first appeared."_

"I do?"

" _Yes. My past self is going to give you an envelope; put that envelope in the third cabinet from the left on the right wall of your father's workshop. That'd be the right wall from the door, not from wherever you land. Understand? I want you to say that back to me, Anna, it's very important."_

"Third cabinet from the left, right wall based on the door. I got it. Why that cabinet?"

" _So he finds it when he needs it most."_

"How's he going to find it if I, uh, disappear myself?" Anna pointed out. "I thought the whole point of this was that I never went back to the past at all?"

" _Right, but the three minutes you're in the shop before the paradox is enacted will be a closed loop,"_ Dad interjected,  _"I'd explain, but it'd take hours and despite having a time machine, we don't actually have much time. You're going to have to just trust me and my math on this one, sweetheart. I promise, you're coming home safe and sound."_

Anna took a deep breath. "Okay, Daddy."

" _That's my girl."_

"Got it!" Past Pops skidded back into the room with an open envelope. He licked the edge and closed it before passing it over to Anna. "Thank you, Anna."

"Yeah, sure." Anna accepted it. It was plain, no address or anything, just a simply scrawled  _Tony_ on the front.

"Come here." Past Pops gestured to her, so Anna put her phone in her pocket and accepted the tight hug.

Past Dad looked on awkwardly, until past Pops rolled his eyes and dragged him in by the arm. They embraced for a moment, until Anna released and they reluctantly did the same. They didn't let go of each other though, and Anna knew her parents well enough—even the past ones—to know when to turn around and observe the ceiling or carpet or anywhere that wasn't her parents. She let them have their moment, before coughing awkwardly as it went on a little long.

"Soon," past Pops promised.

"Not soon enough." Past Dad squeezed his hand.

"Sooner than you think." Past Pops just smiled and kissed him again.

Great. More kissing. She pulled her phone out her pocket and put it to her ear to talk to her parents instead, but they were, unsurprisingly, bickering, and not listening to her at all.

"— _don't see how you can make fun of them, you'd be just as upset about it."_ Pops snorted.  _"Same person, remember?"_

" _They get each other back in two months, they won't even remember what they missed—"_

" _I suppose I'll just sleep in my old room for two months, if you won't even remember what you're missing—"_

" _For the record, that's not a valid analogy, but I'm letting it slide because I get the point. Also because sleeping alone is horrible and I don't envy them in the least."_

" _Like you even remember. You haven't slept alone in twenty-one years."_

" _There have been missions,_ week long  _missions—"_

" _Sleeping in my shirts isn't good enough for you anymore?"_

" _How did you—don't laugh at me, you'd do it too if_ your  _supersoldier body pillow rudely prioritized saving the world over sleeping with you. And no, thank you, they're not good enough, your shirts don't surprise me with morning blo—"_

"Okay!" Anna announced loudly enough for them to hear her. "I think I'm ready to forget this ever happened now."

" _Oh, god, the phone's still on—"_ Dad startled.

" _Sorry, sweetheart."_ Pops choked on a laugh.

" _I'll, uh, fire up the machine."_ Dad diverted quickly.

"Yeah." Anna winced. Definitely ready to forget.

" _Are you ready?"_

She probably ought to say goodbye to her aunt and uncles, but she didn't have long…she supposed none of them would remember it anyway.

"Ready," she answered.

"You're going, then?" Past Dad asked, and Anna glanced at them. They were disentangled—well, as much as they ever really did—so she turned back to face them.

"Yeah." Anna nodded, smiled. "It's been fun. See you in twenty-odd years."

"See you in twenty-odd years." Past Dad smiled back.

" _Brace yourself."_ Pops warned.  _"And make sure you're not touching anything except the envelope."_

"Got it."

" _Five,"_ Dad began the countdown, " _Four. Three. Two. On—"_

Light.

It was different than last time, less of a tumble and more of a tug. It was nothing she could have really defined. There weren't words for the sights and sounds, only the feeling; the first time had been disorganized and messy and she'd burst out of it in a rush. This time it was a straight shot through, like a slingshot being released in a calculated direction. She blinked and it was over, she was standing there in the middle of the workshop, her dad, young as he'd been a moment ago, asleep at the table.

She quickly rattled off the blackout code before JARVIS could warn him all over again. What had Pops said about cabinets? Third from the left, right wall based on the door? She faced away from the door to find the correct wall, then went over to the third cabinet from the left.

Oh, wow.

Dad drank?

She racked her mind to remember if she'd ever seen him take so much as a glass with dinner, but couldn't recall. Did he have all this in his workshop in the present? Probably not, right? She glanced through some of the bottles curiously. It was all expensive, quality stuff as far as she could tell, and plenty of them were more than half gone. She didn't see any glasses.

She propped the envelope up right in front. She debated opening it. No one would know, right? After a moment of fiddling with the corner of the envelope, she let it go; it felt invasive, and deeply personal. She left it there and shut the cabinet door quietly, glancing behind her to make sure Dad hadn't woken. He was still passed out, drooling on the byproduct of whatever inventing bender he'd just pulled. She grinned.

Some things never changed.


	5. Epilogue

 

**Epilogue**

It had been bad.

Tony had known it'd be bad. He'd also known it was coming, if he was honest with himself, but he was never honest with himself if he could help it, which was why he was in this rotten situation in the first place.

Pepper had broken up with him.

Tony didn't  _do_ breakups. At least not well. He was an all or nothing guy, and though he'd spent a long time leaning towards strings of one-night nothings, he'd  _enjoyed_ giving his all to Pepper. More than he'd expected, that was for sure; the not-so-pretty truth of it was that he'd fallen into a relationship with Pepper because it had been easy. They were already so close, she'd wanted to try for more and she'd put up with his shit for long enough that she damn well deserved what she wanted. Tony hadn't expected to like the idea of commitment as much as he did. To crave it.

_I'm not who you want anymore, and we both know it. Everyone knows. I can't keep waiting, hoping you'll come around and feel the way about me you used to. It's not fair to me, Tony._

All he had to do was love her, and he'd have gotten the commitment he wanted. He'd have a stable relationship, a chance at a future…now what did he have? Nothing. He had a woman who loved him more than he deserved, a best friend who would never love him the way he wished for, and he'd lost one because he couldn't bring himself to let go of the other. Stupid, stupid, stupid. All he would've had to do was deny, deny everything, say that he didn't have feelings for Steve, that he never had and never would, that Pepper was the only one he loved and buy her something nice and small like she liked, a coastal island or something, one of the itty bitty ones.

He hadn't been able to bring himself to. He'd meant to, wanted to, but she'd said something that had stopped him.

_I deserve more than this, you know. We both do. We deserve to be happy, Tony._

Happy. Would he have been happy with Pepper? He wanted to say yes, because she'd opened his eyes to what he wanted, but that didn't make  _her_  what he wanted. He couldn't get what he wanted; she was the next best thing, and that wasn't fair to her. Tony wasn't particularly great with love or relationships or anything to do with people at all, really, but even he knew, when he wanted to admit it to himself, that if you loved someone you put them first. He hadn't been putting Pepper first for a long time. If he'd just been putting himself first, being a selfish bastard like he usually was, at least he could've—theoretically—grown out of it. He knew that wasn't the problem, though, because he'd made the stupid, stupid mistake of pushing Pepper's hand.

" _I do put you first, of course I do—"_

" _You don't!" Pepper stopped, took a breath to calm herself. "I don't—this doesn't have to be another fight, Tony. I don't want it to be."_

" _I'm not trying to fight. I'm asking you what makes you think you don't mean the world to me?"_

" _I'm not saying you don't care about me, I know you do. I_ know  _you do. You matter so much to me, and we're always going to be friends—"_

" _Don't say friends—"_

" _Friends, Tony. I will always be your friend, and you are always going to be mine. That's not going to change. But I'm not…I'm not your world anymore. And that's okay, but I'm done trying just to make room for myself, trying to get you to so much as glance my way when all you want to do is revolve around Steve."_

" _I do_ not _—"_

" _You do, and it's not a bad thing. People change."_

" _He could never—" Care for me that way. Love me like I love him. "It's not like that, I would never cheat on you—"_

" _I know you wouldn't, and I know you didn't." Pepper clasped his hand briefly, squeezing once before letting go. "But I'm not going to be the reason you make yourself miserable, Tony."_

" _I'm not miserable—"_

" _You are, Tony. You're miserable, and you're taking it out on me. We fight constantly, you spend more time in the shop than ever, you_ never  _come to bed, and don't tell me that's got nothing to do with the fact that Steve has insomnia. You don't anymore, I know you don't, but you force yourself to stay up through all hours of the night to keep him company—"_

" _I don't—it's not about—I have work to do—"_

" _I run your company!" Pepper shouted, clenching her fists once, tight, then releasing with a slow, even breath. "You think I don't know when you do and don't have work? I may not understand all the technical jargon, but I know how you look when you're working, and I know how you look when you're fiddling with something to keep appearances so he doesn't feel guilty keeping you up all night."_

" _I…we're teammates. I'd do it for any of them," Tony said, and it was weak, it was so fucking weak and they both knew it. He would stay up for the others if they needed him, that was true, but not nearly so readily._

" _It's not just the one thing." Pepper sighed. "We never spend time together anymore, not without screaming at each other by the end of it. And every date we've been on for the past month, you've either been staring at your cell phone texting him the whole time, or irritable and snappish with me because I made you put your phone away. I don't want to—to_ mother  _you, Tony, I don't want to have to force you just to spend time with me. This isn't working. It doesn't matter why."_

God, he wanted a fucking drink.

He'd wanted one for a while now; today marked six weeks since the break-up. He'd have drowned himself in alcohol exactly five weeks six days and twenty-three hours ago if it weren't for one person, and one person alone.

Steve had been with him for nearly every minute of the past six weeks. He was obviously there to talk if Tony needed to, but he never asked or pushed or even so much as hinted at the subject. He didn't annoy Tony endlessly with the stupid, endless questions people always asked, the questions everyone else and their mothers were asking,  _how are you taking it_ and  _how do you feel_ and  _time heals all wounds_ like that little Hallmark gem was fucking helpful.

Tony was grumpy and moody and probably just generally an immense pain in the ass, but Steve stayed by his side anyway. He'd snort or roll his eyes when Tony told him to fuck off already, that he was fine, and settle into his corner of the shop and start doodling like he hadn't heard a word Tony'd said. He'd stay quite a while, letting Tony blow off steam, before resuming the conversation naturally and without getting angry because he knew that wasn't what Tony needed right now.

Tony loved him for it so much it hurt.

Which didn't help. If anything, the whole break up business had made the in-love-with-a-straight-man part worse. It'd been so easy to hide behind Pepper's skirt like some shy little kid;  _of course I don't love him, I've got Pepper._ It'd been nothing more than an excuse, but it was easier with an excuse. Easier than looking at Steve and knowing that they couldn't be together not because Tony was taken, or because Steve was taken, or because of anything but the pure and simple fact that he wasn't what Steve wanted.

God, he'd kill for a fucking drink, but Steve would kill him fir—wait.

"JARVIS?" Tony frowned. "Where's Steve?"

"Captain Rogers told you quite clearly that he was leaving for his mission this morning."

"Are you sure?" Tony played skeptical. Really, he just wanted to see Steve's face again. It'd been almost four hours, that was far too long. JARVIS, knowing him all too well, pulled up the security footage.

" _A month?"_ The Tony on screen frowned.  _"Are you kidding? I should go with you, you could use backup—"_

" _SHIELD's provided plenty of backup, Tony."_ The Steve on screen chuckled.  _"I'll be fine. I appreciate the concern, though."_

" _Are you sure? I'm not doing anything important here, it couldn't hurt."_

" _Very sure, Tony."_ Steve pulled Tony into a hug.  _"It's only a month. You won't even notice I'm gone."_

" _Yeah,"_ Tony mumbled into Steve's shoulder,  _"Sure. Just don't die on me, dumbass. If you get yourself killed, I swear, I'll never let you forget it."_

" _If I get myself killed, I don't think I'll be around for you to hold it over my head."_ Steve chuckled again, releasing him.

" _What, you don't think I'm going to visit you every weekend from hell in the afterlife?"_ Tony grinned.

" _You're not going to hell, Tony."_ Steve rolled his eyes affectionately, then rocked forward to hug Tony again impulsively.  _"Honestly. You're ridiculous, you know that?"_

" _Lot of hugging, here,"_ Tony teased, but the video showed his tight grip on Steve's shoulders.

" _I'll miss you."_ Steve squeezed him once more, then let go again.

" _Yeah. Yeah, you too."_ Tony patted him on the arm. Steve smiled, and that was that.

"Has your memory returned to you, sir?" JARVIS asked knowingly as the screen blipped away.

"Oh, yeah." Tony waved a hand. "That mission. Right."

"So glad you recall."

"Don't be a dick," Tony grumbled.

He wasn't particularly pleased about Steve being gone, but at least there was one plus side—Tony could definitely recover from a hangover within a month. He rolled his chair back and stood, made his way to the third cabinet from the left. It was his last resource, the one hiding spot Steve didn't know about and wouldn't have been able to clear out before leaving. Tony tugged the doors open, only to find an envelope with his name on it in Steve's neat and simple scrawl. Damn. When had Steve found his spot?

He tugged it out but didn't bother to close the doors. The letter would be well-intentioned, sure, but Tony doubted there was anything Steve could've said that would make him rethink his plan to get absolutely, spectacularly drunk right the hell now. He thumbed open the fold, pulling out the letter and…it wasn't a letter. It was a picture—a sketch—and clearly Steve's work. Tony would recognize his style anywhere, with or without having seen the handwriting on the envelope.

It was of them, from a gala they'd attended sometime a little over three months ago. He could tell from their suits, and from the garden they were in. Tony had a vague memory of dragging Steve out there to show him the crazy hedges; it was the last thing he could remember of that night. He'd been up for going on eighty hours, and the combination of the dark garden and how comfortable Steve's shoulder was…well. He'd only planned to rest his eyes a moment, and then next thing he knew he was waking up in his own bed, stripped but for his pants, a sticky note with a doodle of a unconscious and drooling Iron Man stuck to his bedside table.

The sketch had him sitting entirely in Steve's lap, slouched and unconscious, his head tucked into the curve between Steve's neck and shoulder. Steve had both arms curled around him protectively, and he had his lips pressed to Tony's hair. The curve of a soft smile was only just barely visible. In the bottom right corner, Steve had written something, his handwriting rushed, the words underlined twice for emphasis.

_You are loved._

What?

_What?_

What in the absolute fucking hell was that supposed to mea—no. No no no, he was being presumptuous and getting his hopes up and being stupid again, he did that, he did that all the time when Steve was involved. He needed to stop. He needed to think rationally. Steve couldn't have meant what Tony was thinking he meant. He meant friend love, like an  _I'm there for you,_ or an  _I've got your back,_ something like that. Except…if that was true…

Wouldn't Steve have written that?

Tony had his phone out before he could think any further, taking a seat back at the workbench. He dialed and pressed the phone to his ear. It didn't ring.

" _You've reached Captain Steve Rogers. I'm unavailable at the moment, but leave a message after the tone and I'll call you back as soon as I can."_

"Yeah, hey—it's me. Uh. Tony. So I got your, um. I mean." If he admitted to finding the drawing, he'd be admitting he'd tried to drink when Steve had explicitly asked him not to. "I was thinking about you—not in a creepy way, or anything, I just—you know, I came out of a bender and I thought—about you. On your mission. Not here. So. I'm trying to say I miss you, which is stupid, since you've only been gone half a day, and of course I'm now remembering you telling me that you couldn't take your phone this time, so I'm going to just, yeah."

Tony hung up, slammed the phone down on the table, and followed it with his forehead. God, he was such an idiot. Death would be nice right about now.

"JARVIS?"

"Delete the message, sir?"

"If you want me to retain any semblance of sanity."

"I shall take that as a please."

"Do." Tony nodded into the table.

He debated going back over to the cabinet, but eventually decided against it.

Over the next month, Tony talked himself in and out of hope, not to mention taking a drink, more times than he could count. He was convinced that Steve had meant it romantically one minute, certain that he was just being friendly the next. He wasn't sure what he'd say when Steve returned. He tried leaving more than a dozen voicemails, none of them any more coherent or less disgustingly desperate than the last, so he had JARVIS delete them all. These attempts hadn't exactly given him confidence, but he still couldn't help being excited. He had a chance. A chance in hell, but a chance nonetheless.

Steve and Natasha were scheduled to return from their mission on a Tuesday; it was Wednesday afternoon when Steve called and said they were officially off duty. Tony asked when he'd be home, and Steve said SHIELD would drop him off via helicopter within an hour or two, since he'd probably grab a shower at SHIELD first. Tony tried his best not to sound disappointed, and blustered on about how totally fine and cool and great that was. He sounded like a fucking idiot, but he blamed the fact that it'd been a month since he'd heard Steve's voice and it was kind of making him love-dumb.

Despite Steve's claims of an hour or two, it was only twenty minutes before a SHIELD helicopter flew by—so maybe Tony waited on the helipad in the meantime, shut up, his project was stalled anyway—and Clint came out to join him as JARVIS alerted them. Steve swung off the helicopter with easy grace, dirty and sweaty and looking like some kind of jungle native. His uniform had taken a beating and was even torn in places, while Steve himself had two visible bruises on his face alone. He looked utterly dead on his feet, but the moment he caught sight of Tony he sucked in a breath and his eyes lit up and he  _beamed,_ wide and pleased and so damn fond Tony couldn't believe there'd ever been a doubt in his mind.

They both took off running at the exact same moment.

It was stupid and ridiculous and totally cliché, and if Tony was watching his life as a movie he'd be cringing painfully, but he couldn't deny there was nothing more gratifying than Steve meeting him halfway and hugging him hard enough to bruise. Before Tony could even realize what was happening he was being all too literally swept off his feet, twirled around in the absolute cheesiest of rom-com embraces.

"Missed you," Steve murmured, lips touching Tony's ear, "Got your messages."

"You t—wait, my what?"

"Your messages." Steve released him. "The voicemails?"

"JARVIS was supposed to delete those!" Tony protested.

"Why?" Steve frowned, looking put out. "I liked them."

"They were mortifying!"

"They were sweet." Steve just smiled. "You missed me."

"Hate to interrupt." Clint cleared his throat. "But is Natasha still alive, or…?"

Steve laughed. "She's still back at SHIELD, cleaning up."

"Why didn't you clean up?" Tony asked. "I thought you were going to."

"What do you mean?" Steve gave him a strange look. "You said you wanted me to come home."

"No, I just asked if you were sure it was totally necessary, if I'd seen you I'd have definitely deemed it necessary—"

"Right, so, no Natasha." Clint rolled his eyes. "I'm out."

"Poke fun if you want, but I know you  _missed_ me," Steve teased giddily, poking a finger along Tony's side as Clint disappeared back into the Tower.

"Because I apparently forgot how obnoxious you are," Tony muttered, wriggling out of Steve's reach.

"Nope." Steve popped the p. Tony frowned.

"What do you mean, 'nope'?"

"I mean that's not why you missed me." Steve grinned, stepping back into Tony's space.

"What makes you think—oh." Tony didn't blush. He didn't. His neck just felt a little warm, that was all. Too much sun out here, obviously.

Still.

He knew exactly the message Steve was talking about.

" _Yeah, so, Tony again. Well, not again, you haven't heard the other messages—not that there's other messages, forget you heard that—but anyway, I'm calling because you've been gone twenty-two days, and that sucks. Really sucks. A surprising amount of suck. Because I found the picture you drew, the one of us at the Van Dyne's party a few months back? And I—well. I mean, that's pretty clear. Right? You were trying to be clear? So I should be clear too, probably. That's what people do, y'know, talk about feelings and things? So, feelings. Feelings like liking you. A lot. A love lot. And I'm hoping you do too. Obviously. Duh. Why am I even—god this is fucking stupid, never mind, JARVIS, delete."_

"I'm going to tear that AI's wires apart, I swear—"

"Don't." Steve shook his head with a chuckle. "I'm glad he didn't delete the messages. Though, I can't believe you found that picture—"

"Sorry—" Tony winced, knowing Steve wouldn't be happy that he'd turned to alcohol the minute he was gone.

"Well." Steve smiled, leaning in close. "I guess I don't mind just this once. Ends justifying the means and all, at least in this case. But don't go poking around my stuff in the future though—"

"Poking around? You totally left it out for me—" Tony insisted.

"Sure, Tony." Steve rolled his eyes affectionately. Tony wasn't sure what game Steve was playing at, but the curious response was quickly forgotten in light of the way Steve was leaning into him.

"So, hi." Tony swallowed hard.

"So, hi," Steve murmured back.

Steve kisses were every bit as wonderful as Tony imagined. Though the kiss itself stayed more sweet than lustful, Steve's hands dropped immediately to wrap around Tony's waist. Tony made a soft, keening noise into Steve's mouth he would steadfastly deny for the rest of his life as he arched up to get a little more leverage, clasping Steve's face to pull him in as close as possible. The kiss was everything Tony could've hoped for.

Though, he had to admit, it did give him a strangely profound feeling of déjà vu.


End file.
